A Neapolitan Love Story
by the Zoshi
Summary: Sometimes, you can't decide on just one flavor. Chocolate? Vanilla? Strawberry? ...how about all three at once? CrackTP Neapolitan Slash Pairing: CKK updated 03 06 09
1. Intro

Disclaimer: South Park and all characters in it are copyright Matt Stone and Trey Parker, not me.

A/N:

ALL RIGHTY THEN.

Zoshi has entered the world of CrackPairings. :D Aren't we all excited?

This is my official CrackTP. Neapolitan. It makes me happy.

I'm trying to make this story Non-Angsty. We shall see how that goes… XD

REVIEW PEOPLE. I know it's difficult, but let me know what you think, please? PLEASE.

Be like Nike: JUST DO IT.

* * *

Title: A Neapolitan Love Story 

Author: Zoshi the Confused  
Rating: Ranging, mostly PG-PG13

Category: South Park

Genre: General

May contain: Shounen-Ai/Boy Love, Violence, Adult Situations, Swearing

* * *

**A Neapolitan Love Story**

The radio at the back of the room played a mix of rock and punk songs. That was only one of the many things in the place that was annoying him. The shade of pale blue the walls were painted annoyed him too, along with the comfortable chair he was sitting in and the sturdy looking table standing not far away.

"Why the hell do I have to keep coming back here?" Craig growled, slouching back in his chair and glaring at the lady sitting across from him.

"Because we still have a lot of work to do," Ms. Kelling said, adjusting her wire-rimmed glasses and grinning at him. Craig crossed his arms, eyeing her warily.

"I've been here five times already, isn't that enough for whatever shit you want to do?" He said irritably. The way she'd put her hair up that day annoyed him too.

"My, aren't we testy today," The woman responded, still grinning, and wrote something down on a little notebook in her lap. Craig dropped his arms and leaned forward.

"What're you writing?" He asked, narrowing his eyes. She was probably writing some shit about how he wasn't cooperating, or how he was a lost case or something. Stupid therapists with their stupid know-it-all looks.

"Ideas." Ms. Kelling said, looking up from her notebook with a sly grin. "For a story."

"Hmph," Craig sat back in his chair, "And I thought you were here to work."

The woman laughed, pulling her glasses off with one hand and placing them on the table next to her.

"Now Craig, tell me, how was your week?" Ms. Kelling folded her hands in her lap, over the notebook, and gazed at him in that quiet, super-relaxed manner that seemed so abundant with therapists.

"It was fine," Craig said, looking at her evenly.

"That's good," Ms. Kelling smiled, "Did you do any interesting? Maybe a new project in school?"

Craig shifted on his seat slightly, sighing. Goddamn, but these 'sessions' were boring.

"There was a group project in my science class," He said, shrugging. "Otherwise it was normal."

"A group project, hm? Who did you work with?" Ms. Kelling asked.

"No one, the groups didn't go together even. So I talked the teacher into letting me work alone…" Craig said. Ms. Kelling frowned.

"You do know you're going to have to work with other people eventually, right?" She said, but Craig stayed silent. What did she know, anyways? "You'll figure that out eventually…"

Ms. Kelling stood up, placed the notebook on the table and headed back to a series of storage cabinets in the back of the room. Craig watched curiously as she brought back a pad of paper and a pack of colored pencils. She placed them on the table, then slid the table over in front of him. He stared down at the objects, then looked up at her.

"What is this?" He asked, but with the tone he tacked onto it, it came out sounding more like "You've got to be kidding me."

"We're going to talk, and you're going to use those pencils and that paper." Ms. Kelling smiled at him brightly. This time he did say.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," Craig said, then snorted. "I can't draw for shit."

"I seriously doubt that Craig," Ms. Kelling said, settling back into her chair. "But you honestly don't have to really draw anything. Doodle, write, make squiggly lines or circles. What I want you to do is to put whatever you're feeling onto the paper."

Craig snorted, but decided to humor the lady. Whatever, as long as it made the time he was wasting go by faster, he didn't care what they did. He spilled out the colored pencils onto the table, rolling them around before finally choosing the brown one. Brown was safe enough, he thought. A neutral color, wasn't it? Without looking back at Ms. Kelling he put the pencil's point to the paper and started drawing squiggles and random shapes.

"How are your friends doing?" Ms. Kelling asked.

"They're all right…" Craig shrugged, his pencil moving to make circles on the paper.

"And you said school's going good, hm?" She continued, voice light.

"Yeah, its fine," Craig answered. His pencil zigged in a series of jagged lines.

"How're things at home?" Ms. Kelling asked, leaning comfortably on the table.

"Good," Craig moved the pencil again, this time in concentric circles. He sighed, leaning an elbow on the table and putting chin on his hand. There, there's a stupid little house. And a sun. There's a tree.

"I feel like a fucking five year old…" He muttered, starting on another little drawing.

"I think you'd be surprised to find that most five year olds have quite the expressive imaginations when it comes to drawing…" Ms. Kelling peered over at the newest drawing on the page. "What's that?"

"…it's Stripe," Craig muttered, suddenly feeling defensive. It was a horrible little drawing, an oval with big shiny eyes and tiny dashes for toes. Only the coloring looked anything like Stripe.

"Who's Stripe?" Ms. Kelling asked softly. Craig held the point of the pencil on the drawing for a long moment.

"Stripe was my guinea pig… He died a few years ago." Craig frowned, dropping the pencil, and looked at Ms. Kelling, but he didn't see the pity look he usually expected at moments like these. Instead, the woman was looking at him with a slightly curious expression on her face.

"What's your favorite type of ice cream?" Ms. Kelling asked suddenly, still with that curious expression.

"…Neapolitan… why?" Craig asked, raising an eyebrow. Ms. Kelling grinned.

"Can't decide on one flavor, hm?" She grinned, "Very well, I was thinking that maybe next time we can go somewhere else instead of this room."

"Sure," Craig sat back in his chair, arms folding again.

"Now, Craig, our time here is coming to an end," Ms. Kelling said, folding her arms on the table. "And I have something I want you do to for me."

"What?" Craig didn't hide the irritation in his voice.

"Take a clean sheet of paper… go ahead," Ms. Kelling nodded as he did so, "And write down the following: Favorite Color, Favorite Music, and Favorite Food."  
Craig did as he was told, albeit it slowly, and then looked up at the woman.

"Now, this is the hard part… I want you to go to a person, some person who you don't talk to normally, and find out the answers to those three things," Ms. Kelling said, her smile only growing at Craig's look of disgust.

"I'm not doing that," Craig said, twirling the pencil angrily in his fingers.

"Well, of course, that is entirely up to you," Ms. Kelling said, sighing softly, "Just like it is entirely up to me whether we spend our session next week spending some time outside, or down at the nursing home down the street so you can get some social interaction."

She smiled sweetly. Craig counted all the way to six before finding himself flipping her off.

"Well, you lasted quite long that time," Ms. Kelling said, raising an eyebrow. Craig snorted, standing up and stuffing the paper in his pocket.

"I'm going home." He said with finality. Ms. Kelling smiled at him and waved.

"All right Craig, I'll see you next week," She called after him as he walked out the door.

* * *

"Dude, what the fuck is up with your hair?" 

Craig looked up from where he was leaning against the school staircase to see Clyde looking down at him over the stair rail above.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Craig frowned up at him, and waited impatiently as Clyde stomped his way down the stairs.

"I'm talking about this," Clyde grabbed at some hair that was sticking out from under Craig's hat and attempted to twist it around so Craig could see it. "It's black."

"So?" Craig tilted his head back, pulling his hair out of Clyde's grasp, and fixed his hat.

"So, it was brown yesterday," Clyde said, looking at him strangely.

"…I dyed it…" Craig said impassively. God, but he was getting tired of hearing that question from people. Clyde stared at him for a moment, then frowned.

"No way dude," Clyde pushed Craig in the shoulder. The now-black-haired-boy flipped him off before heading down the hallway towards his locker. Clyde followed along, swinging his book bag onto his shoulder. Dodging between other students rushing through the halls, they finally managed to reach their destination.

"Aw, come on Tweeks, it'll be fun."

"Gah! I don't know, Kenny, I mean, oh God, there's gonna be so many people there -ack- and the, the germs all over the place, and everyone's always so _loose_…"

Craig pushed Kenny away from his locker, earning a highly annoyed look shot in his direction, and spun the lock through the combination.

"Party at the usual spot, Craiggy-boy," Kenny grinned, leaning his arm up on the top of Craig's locker door. "You coming?"

"Hngh," Craig grunted as he pulled his books out, "Who else is going?"

"I am!" Clyde piped up from beside him.

"Tweeks is coming too, right?" Kenny winked and nudged the other blonde in the side, causing the boy to jump a few inches before giving him a twitchy-eyed, shocked look. Craig frowned at that, closing the locker door so suddenly that Kenny almost fell over. "What the fuck?"

"I'll come," Craig said, "Now get out of the way."

Kenny stuck his tongue out at him.

"'Please' would be nice," The blonde said, but Craig just flipped him off before shoving him aside. Tweek followed close behind, warily looking back at Kenny as they left. Clyde lagged behind, and Craig could hear him and Kenny talking about what girls to bring along.

"You thinking about going, Tweek?" Craig asked, looking over at the blonde.

"Gah!" Tweek twitched, "You think I should go, Craig? With, with all the people -ack- and all the _touching_…"

"Could be fun," Craig shrugged, looking over at him, "Besides, you need to relax a little…"

"Th-that's what -ack- Kenny always says," Tweek shuddered.

"You're not alone in that, Tweek," Craig said, "He says that to everyone."

"Guys, wait up!"

Both Craig and Tweek stop, although the blonde's stop was more of a jerk-hop, to see Clyde and Token heading their way. Once the others caught up the group of four headed on.

"Figured out who else is gonna go?" Craig asked Clyde.

"Yeah, we told most of the regulars to come, and Stan and those guys are coming," Clyde said grinning happily. "But we got a lot of girls to come, man, you wouldn't believe how many… Usually its such a fucking chore to get them to go…"

"So Kyle's coming with them?" Craig asked, eyeing Clyde out of the corner of his eye.

"Yeah, dude, I just hope his mom doesn't try checking up on him," Clyde grimaced.

"That's just what'd the party need, the She-Bitch crashing the party," Token snorted, "I don't know why he comes, he always has to leave before the party gets started, and he doesn't drink anything."

"Its sad, the guy just can't have any fun," Clyde shook his head in mock sympathy.

"Whatever," Craig rolled his eyes and snapped, "Hurry up, or I'll leave you all behind."

"Damn, what's wrong with you, boy?" Token asked.

"He's just pissy because there's a Red Racer marathon on and he's missing it," Clyde snickered.

"Shut the fuck up," Craig flipped him off, giving him a dirty look.

"Whatever dude, you know its true," Clyde laughed, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

"Where're we meeting up?" Craig shrugged the hand off, eyeing the other three.

"Your place," Token said, "It's closest."

"Fine," Craig said, stepping away from the others, "Later guys."

"Later."

* * *

Craig wasn't sure exactly what number beer he had, the only thing he knew was that it definitely wouldn't be his last. There were people everywhere, and fuck, Tweek was right; they all wanted to touch everyone else. Craig had already shoved his way past 5 gropers in a row, but the way the party was going, it didn't seem he'd be able to dodge them all for long. Threatening another would-be groper with his half-empty beer bottle (shit that emo fad was getting bad, he couldn't even tell guys from girls anymore) he shoved on through the crowd, searching for some member of his usual gang. Clyde had disappeared a while ago, following the arrival of some leggy brunette, and Craig hadn't seen him since. He'd last seen Token around the stereo, complaining about the choice in music and trying to convince the assigned "DJ"(Jimmy) to switch cds. And Tweek… After walking past a pair of entangled arms and legs he finally found him, backed up against a wall and surrounded by girls from all sides. The poor boy was getting groped from either side, and was jumping a foot in the air each time someone touched him. Craig stared thoughtfully at the blonde for a moment, then shrugged and moved on. Fuck, he'd babysat at the last party, it was Clyde's turn this time, and if Clyde couldn't remember that then he'd have to deal with an overly-hyped up Tweek for the rest of the night, once the blonde found Clyde and convinced him to let him stay the night. 

_PFfft, underwear gnomes_, Craig thought derisively, taking a swig of his beer. That boy was seriously messed up.

"But duuude, the party'sh jusht gettin' started…"

Craig stopped just short of running into a very wobbly looking Stan. The black haired boy, decked out in both (what the hell?) emo AND gothic fasion, had his arms wrapped around the arm of his best friend, and seemed to be doing his best to pull the other boy back from heading towards the door. Kyle, who was probably the only sober person at the damn party, patiently unclamped Stan's fingers from his arm.

"Stan, I have to go, you know my mom," Kyle sighed, looking around the party with a look of utter longing, "Do you really want her showing up at the door?"

"We… we could jusht tell her you're at my house!" Stan said brightly, grabbing onto the much taller redhead's shoulders to keep steady.

"Stan, this IS your house," Kyle rolled his eyes, but Stan started on another round of 'convincing' to keep him from leaving.

Craig leaned back against a table that was located conveniently nearby and smirked, watching the scene go on. It was always the same: ten thirty, Kyle, in order to keep his mother from descending upon the party like a giant, red eyed demon from hell, would start to leave the party. Stan (who by this point in time was doing a good job at following in his father's footsteps) was almost wasted but still able to form coherent sentences, and would try to get Kyle to stay at the party instead of leaving. They would continue arguing about it until Kenny, of the iron liver, would show up, not sober but not falling over himself either, and cheerfully pull Stan away, leaving Kyle to exit without any further complications.

And yes, here came Kenny, sidling up to the black-haired emogoth boy and pulling him off of the redhead.

"C'mon Stan, you gotta come see this," Kenny said, spinning Stan around to face him.

"But… but Kyle's leaving…" Stan gave him an annoyed look and attempted to turn back around.

"Dude, you have to see this, you won't Believe what Wendy's doing," Kenny looked at him with a leer.

"Wendy?" Stan paused, puzzled.

"And Bebe too, man," Kenny nodded, "And I think they'll get Red to join in soon…"

Stan looked indecisive for a moment, thinking hard, then turned back to Kyle.

"I gotta go shee this…" Stan told him, then lifted a finger to point at him. "You wait here, I'll… I"ll be Right back…"

"All right Stan," Kyle nodded seriously.

"Right back, gotta go check this out…" Stan told him some more, pointing off somewhere in the room.

"You do that…" Kyle grinned, watching Stan stumble away through the crowd. He turned a relieved smile to Kenny, who was laughing to himself. "Thanks man."

"No problem," Kenny slapped his shoulder before heading off into the crowd himself.

With a sigh, Kyle cast one more longing look around the party, then turned and headed out the door. Craig watched him leave with a curious look on his face. Kyle was always wearing that same look, as if he wished that he could be part of everything that was going on, but wasn't. Craig frowned, downing the last of his beer, and headed towards the door himself. Outside, he saw that Kyle was already halfway down the block, and he hurried to stumble after him.

"Kyle, wait up!" He called, and the redhead stopped, turning around with a puzzled look.

"Craig?" Kyle said, obviously surprised. They didn't exactly talk every day, more like only whenever they were forced to. "What do you want?"

Craig stopped not far from him, looking at him for a long moment.

"What's… what's your favorite color?" He asked finally. Kyle raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything, and Craig frowned. "What the fuck is it?"

"…green…?" It came out more like a question.

"Music?" Craig continued.

"…90's Punk," Kyle was still looking at him as if he was doing something horribly strange.

"…favorite…" Craig wracked his brain, trying to remember, "Favorite food?"

"Anything with a high sugar content," Kyle said, then added, "Why, may I ask?"

"Why…?" Craig took a step back, feeling defensive suddenly, "Project…. Uh, extra credit… some stupid shit…"

"Right." Kyle didn't look convinced, and he didn't look amused either.

"Whatever." Craig took another step back, "Uh, thanks. Yeah…. Later."

He turned around, weaving his way along the sidewalk back to the party. Green. 90's Punk. Sugar. Green 90's Punk Sugar. Fuck. He had to write that down. Ha. Fucking therapist, there. Take that, he did it. Stupid shit of a thing.

Now, he just needed to find some paper, and a pencil, and…

He walked back in through the still open door only to be grabbed around the waist and pulled deeper inside.

"Craig! You're missing the best parts man," Kenny laughed, pulling him along. Craig grimaced; that arm around his waist was sending shivers if something up his spine, and he didn't like it.

"What the fuck, ass," Craig tried to pull away, but Kenny wouldn't let go. "What the hell am I missing?"

"The party, you douche," Kenny rolled his eyes dramatically, accompanying it with a loud sigh. Craig pushed him away and headed towards the nearest cooler, but he could hear the blonde following him.

"Why the hell won't you go bother one of your fucking friends?" Craig glared at Kenny before opening the cooler. Ice, ice, dented can, some more ice. He shoved his hands between the frozen chunks of water and dug around for a while. He pulled them out almost completely numb, but holding two bottles of booze.

"They're either gone or taken, man," Kenny grabbed a bottle from him and opened it, "I don't got anyone to hang around."

A moment and Craig was dragged up to his feet by the blonde. Groaning, and trying to ignore the fact that Kenny now had his arm draped around his neck, he relented and decided to just go with the flow.

Fuck, this was going to be a long night.

* * *

PSST: Neapolitan C/K/K 


	2. Three Flavors

Disclaimer: South Park and all characters in it are copyright Matt Stone and Trey Parker, not me.

A/N:

AHAHAHAHA It took me 3 DAYS to write one paragraph at one point… LOVELY.

…um serious artist/writer's block… don't expect any updates on anything of mine for a little while.. :D YAY!

Anyways! I'm trying to pick up the pace, because kyleisgod said it was going a little slow and that is TRUTH. Argh… I like stretching things out, apparently… XD  
Anyways… yeah, not every chapter will start with therapy but this one does too.

And why is Craig in therapy? I assure you, you will all find out soon enough. I like it because it gives me a chance to make the story fuller and more than just a boy-meets-boy-meets-boy BLAHBLAH thing. XD

**THANK YOU**:

**Kyleisgod**

**Kennylover98**

**Tweek-like-chocolate**

**Lunagrrl180**

Review! And get cookies! I'M BAKING THE GOOD STUFF!

* * *

Title: A Neapolitan Love Story 

Author: Zoshi the Confused  
Rating: Ranging, mostly PG-PG13

Category: South Park

Genre: General

May contain: Shounen-Ai/Boy Love, Violence, Adult Situations, Swearing

* * *

Craig stared down at the melting ice cream cone in his hand. The chocolate was running down his thumb, the vanilla down his knuckles, and the strawberry was leaving its sticky trail down the front of his fingers. 

"You do know that that's meant to be eaten _before_ it melts, right?" Ms. Kelling asked from her seat across the café table.

Craig didn't respond, preferring to watch as the ice cream continued to melt. Ms. Kelling didn't try to get him to talk anymore, instead focusing on her own caramel and fudge sundae.

"What's Polyamory?" Craig asked suddenly, turning to look at the woman. She licked her spoon thoughtfully, then stuck it in her sundae. She looked at him for a long moment before finally speaking.

"Polyamory is a… difficult term to explain," Ms. Kelling began, "It involves the desire, practice, or acceptance of having an intimate relationship between more than two people."

"You sound like an encyclopedia," Craig grimaced, "Talk normal."

"Heh, allright," Ms. Kelling took a breath. "Polyamory is when a person feels comfortable with the desire to have a relationship with more than one person, simply put. Or it could be someone who is accepting of polyamorous relationships, and is fine with their partner having an intimate relationship with another person."

"So, its like, if three people get together and stuff, that's polyamory?" Craig asked, frowning.

"Yes, that would be it. However, while the three people can all be involved in a relationship, it could also be two people in one relationship, and one of that pair involved with the third person, as long as the first person accepts that." Ms. Kelling explained, "It's a little complicated, definitions of polyamory aren't always black and white."

"Hm," Craig looked down at his ice cream again. What to lick first, the strawberry or vanilla? Strawberry or vanilla? … Chocolate always came last, of course.

"What got you thinking about polyamory?" Ms. Kelling asked, swirling her spoon in the melting sundae. Craig shrugged, finally deciding to lick both the strawberry and vanilla at the same time.

"Heard someone talking about it in school…" He muttered the answer, looking at the therapist from the corner of his eye. She was giving him a searching look, as if she could read his thoughts if she focused on him hard enough.

…maybe she could…

"You know, there were a few studies in that direction, and really there isn't anything wrong with polyamorous relationships. The most important thing is openness, communication, and the ability to control any feelings of jealousy that might pop up," Ms. Kelling said, still watching him closely. "While in the public's eye it seems strange, some people find the support of two or more partners more comforting than of just one."

"Yeah?" Craig asked, focusing back on his ice cream and exuding as much nonchalance as he could.

"Yes," Ms. Kelling affirmed, and for a moment a smile tugged at her lips. She hid it with a downward glance, swirling the remains of her sundae. "Well, Craig, our time is coming to a close. Is your mother picking you up again today?"

Craig snorted, licking more ice cream off of his hand.

"I'll take that as a no, then," Ms. Kelling sighed. "I have another request of you Craig. It might be a little more difficult than most of the things I've asked of you before, but I believe you can do it."

"What do you want me to do this time?" Craig groaned.

"I want you to take this following week to prepare to come in nest week trusting me," Ms. Kelling said softly. Craig frowned at her, and opened his mouth to reply, but she raised a hand to silence him. "Just give it a try, all right?"

"Why?" Craig eyed her warily.

"I just have the feeling it'd be best if you did," Ms. Kelling smiled. "Remember Craig, I'm here to listen, and to help."

"Right," Craig snorted, turning back to his ice cream. The melted ice cream was soaking through the tip of the bottom of the waffle cone and tiny drops were dripping onto the seat between his legs.

"I have to get back to the office," Ms. Kelling said, standing up. "I'll see you next week, Craig."

"Sure," Craig grunted, trying to lick the bottom of the cone. From the corner of his eye he saw Ms. Kelling take her sundae bowl and leave the table. He focused back on his cone, eyeing the flavors.

Vanilla or Strawberry? Strawberry or vanilla?

* * *

The noise was getting on Craig's nerves. He'd been irritable to begin with, and although he'd generally join in on the locker room banter, listening to twenty-plus guys make lewd remarks and stupid jokes was almost a little too much for him at that moment in time. He suppressed another sigh as he pulled of his shirt and tossed it into the locker. He glared at his gym shirt for a moment before reaching into the locker and pulling it out. 

There - that feeling again. That prickling at the back of his neck, _again_.

Someone was watching him.

That wasn't much different from any other gym day. He always got that feeling, and he had a definite idea as to who it was doing the watching. Most days he didn't mind. Actually, truth be told, most days he prolonged the time he used to get changed. The key word here was 'most'.

And today, unfortunately, wasn't one of those days.

"Can I put my shirt on now?" He snapped, looking at the person a few lockers down from him.

"No… I-I mean, I wasn't… uh…" Kyle turned back to his own locker quickly, sputtering to a stop. He turned back to his own open locker, becoming totally engrossed in folding a shirt that would end up crumpled on the floor of the locker anyways due to the lack of hooks inside.

Craig wasn't really regretting his remark at that moment, although he got the feeling that later he would. He really _didn't_ mind the attention, even if it did happen each time they had gym, he was just having a really, _really_ bad day.

Of course, when he thought he might regret it later, he didn't expect 'later' to come so soon.

"Don't mind the JewFag Craig, he's just horneh cuz he's never got laid-"

"Shut the FUCK UP Fatass-"

"-and his buttbuddy doesn't have gym this period-"

"-I fucking swear I'm going to kick your ass-"

"-and Ah think his mom took away his porn mags too-"

Craig put his shirt on, closed the locker door a lot more calmly than he felt at the moment, ignored the fact that the shouting match had reached magnificent proportions and that most of the locker room population was either laughing or joining in, and headed out. Great. A wonderful part to an already wonderful day. He really did have a knack for fucking things up. The jeers and jibes faded as he headed out through the short hallway towards the gym. Turning through the doorway, he nearly ran into Kenny. The blond grinned at him, tossing an arm around his shoulders.

"What was that back there?" Kenny asked, looking back over their shoulders towards the locker room.

"…you weren't there?" Craig looked at him, and Kenny shook his head.

"Nah, I had to come out here early cuz the teach wanted to talk about something…" Kenny grimaced. "Blah blah blah, whatever, I wasn't really paying attention to what he was saying…"

Craig shook his head, sighing. Even though he pulled out from under Kenny's arm, the blonde followed him across to where the other students who had already changed were standing. Their teacher, a middle aged rangy man who also headed the school soccer team, stood at the head of the group.

"All right everybody, why don't you all go ahead and pair off and start stretching while we wait for the rest of the class to get here," The teacher said, watching as the students began separating.

"You going to the party tonight?" Kenny asked as they got started. Craig shrugged, grimacing.

"The fuck, why are there so many parties lately?" Craig sighed, stretching his arm behind his head.

"What're you talking about? The last one was over a week ago…" Kenny said, pretending to stretch but not really doing it. "So, are you going?"

"We'll see," Craig muttered, eyeing the blonde. Kenny grinned widely.

"Aw, come on, go to the party…" Kenny said, then winked. "Do it for me."

Craig glared at him, but managed to keep from flipping him off.

"Fine," Craig said, and Kenny smiled brightly.

"All right!" Kenny exclaimed happily.

Craig, annoyed as he was, couldn't help but grin at the blonde's enthusiasm. Of course, this meant he was going to spend the night getting wasted and getting dragged around the party by Kenny, per the usual. Funnily enough, the idea wasn't as annoying as he thought it would be.

Actually, for the first time that day, he was looking forward to something.

* * *

Another party, another Friday night, and Craig found himself staggering around someone's packed living room, half-drunk and Kenny-less. As much as he hated to admit it (or so his thoughts went) parties really weren't much fun unless the blonde was there dragging him around from place to place. 

"'ey Craig! C'mere!" Clyde waved him over from by the couch. Managing to stop from walking into an end table, Craig turned and stumbled over to where Clyde was.

"What?" He asked, only to be forcefully seated on the couch.

"Deathmatch!" Clyde exclaimed, throwing a large controller at him and dropping onto the floor next to another one. Craig looked around, puzzled, to find two more people whose names he couldn't remember at the moment also sitting on the couch and holding large controllers. He looked down at the massive controller in his hand, a large green 'X' flashing in the middle of it.

"What're we playing?" He asked, looking to a grungy looking guy sitting next to him.

"Dude," He said in that annoying drawn out way, "Halo, dude."

The sound Craig emitted was somewhere between a grunt, a groan, and the call of a dying giraffe.

Every. Single. Fucking. Time.

He got up and tossed his controller back onto the couch, tilting to hold onto the armrest as he did so.

"Craig-"

"No," He gave Clyde a middle finger that was quite steady for the way he felt, and turned to get away.

"CRAAAAIIIIGG!" Clyde continued to cry out, managing to sound nearly as bad a hippo with a hernia. "We need four people for Deaatthmaaaaatch!"

"Find someone else!" Craig growled over his shoulder. A multitude of groans and curses followed him, as well as plastic cups (from the sounds of it). There was no lack of takers for the fourth position, if the mad rush to the couch was any indication.

It seemed that he was probably the only person who didn't think Halo was god's gift to the gaming world. Shoot. Run people over. Shoot some more. Die. Honestly, he didn't like any of those stupid shooter games. They were all repetitive and boring, and playing with other people only meant you were playing with people stupider than the in-game AI.

There was a cooler standing in the small hallway between the kitchen and the living room, and he stopped at it. Another beer? Yes? Maybe?

"Anneebuddy see Kyle?"

Stan staggered past him, looking around. Opening a door to a closet, he looked inside for a minute before closing the door and staggering onwards towards the living room.

Kyle. He should probably be finding Kyle too. Man, but that was a fucked up moment in the locker room. He really did feel bad about it. That really hadn't been the place, or the time.

Craig shook his head, and looked back down at the cooler. He wasn't in any state of mind to go around apologizing. Opening the cooler, he pulled out another bottle and walked off into the kitchen. He chugged most of it by the time he reached the kitchen table, and he fell into a chair to take a breather. The sky outside was just past getting-dark, and a few clouds in the sky caught his attention. He finished the beer while watching the clouds drift along, and was thinking about going back to the living room when something caught his eye.

There, just where the clouds had passed, something in the sky was sparkling. It looked like a star…

…but hey, did it move?

He wasn't sure; he blinked, and it looked like it moved again. But maybe it didn't. But then again, maybe it did, and then moved back to where it was before…

Intrigued, he got out of his seat and made his way over to the door. Glancing out the window one last time, he opened the door and stepped out onto the little patio out back. The sparkling spot was still in the sky. Star? Planet?

Something shifted at the edge of the patio where the stairs led down to the yard, and Craig looked down to see Kyle, seated on the edge, looking at him. The redhead turned away as soon as Craig looked at him, staring off into the dark. Puzzled for a moment, and not entirely thinking properly, Craig walked over and sat down on the top step next to Kyle. He hadn't been in the right state of mind earlier, but now he was totally ready.

"Sorry," He said, and was awarded with a truly shocked look.

"What? For…what?" Kyle asked, puzzled.

"For, you know. Calling you out on shit in front of everybody…" Craig shrugged.

"Oh…er…" Kyle looked away again, "Yeah… whatever… I shouldn't have been…"

"Nah, its cool…" Craig said, looking up at that thing in the sky again. Maybe it was a star. There were more of them in the sky now.

"It's… cool?" Kyle asked in a strange tone. Craig turned to look at him, and their eyes held for a long moment before Kyle, grinning awkwardly, turned away. "Whatever…"

Craig kept looking at him, really looking at him. Looking at the way his hands fingered the wrinkles of his jeans nervously, looking at how his eyes kept drifting his way, then shooting back to where he'd been looking before.

"You… you don't have much fun… much… do you?" Craig asked finally.

"Yeah, I do…" Kyle laughed, almost looking at him, but not quite.

"Then why're you out here?" Craig crossed his arms on his knees. Kyle didn't answer, and instead looked out into the darkness wistfully.

"…it's getting late… I should be going," Kyle said, painfully almost. He didn't look ready to go anywhere.

"…Kyle…" Craig said, watching him.

"What?" The redhead asked, still looking out into the darkness.

"Kyle," Craig said, more forcefully this time.

"What, Craig?" Kyle turned to look at him. Their eyes met, and at that moment there wasn't anything else he could really do, really. Really, there wasn't. At least, not that he could think of.

So he found himself leaning over, shock and maybe something else registering in those eyes he was looking into, and locking lips with the redhead. Initial contact wasn't exactly enough for him, ever, but Kyle wasn't pulling back either. He was registering the sensation, feeling it as deep as it could be felt, but a part of him was wondering whether he'd remember it, exactly. And then, before he could really register the entirety of the situation, they'd pulled apart.

"…I have to go…" Kyle didn't look at him, just stood and walked down the steps. Craig watched him go out the side gate in the chain link fence, but it wasn't until the redhead's form had completely faded into the night's darkness that his mind caught up to the situation.

He'd been hoping to come to a decision rationally, and thoughtfully, and preferably not half-drunk at a party.

After staring out into the darkness a few minutes more, and letting his actions of that day really hit him, he got up and headed back towards the kitchen door.

There were a few bottles in the house that he wanted to get to know better…

* * *

_super secret: The line "another party, another friday night" is from the song **American Suicide** by **Screeching Weasel**  
_


	3. White Noise

Disclaimer: South Park and all characters in it are copyright Matt Stone and Trey Parker, not me.

A/N:

Do you feel detached? Do you, while reading this, have no idea what's going on in Craig's head? Or, get a general idea, but have no idea what, or how he's going to react to things?

If you answered Yes to at least one question, then I have succeeded. : D

**THANK YOU**:

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**Casa Bonita Rocks My Socks**

**I LOVE YOU REVIEWERS!**

I find it ultimately hilarious that I have different reviewers for CH. 1 and Ch. 2…

Unless some of you changed your sn's and I don't know about it… Oo

xD

Review! And get cookies! I'M BAKING THE GOOD STUFF!

* * *

Title: A Neapolitan Love Story

Author: Zoshi the Confused  
Rating: Ranging, mostly PG-PG13

Category: South Park

Genre: General

May contain: Shounen-Ai/Boy Love, Violence, Adult Situations, Swearing

* * *

"Dude, seriously, there's something fucked up going on with your hair…"

Craig sighed, flipping Clyde off wearily.

"Don't start," He warned the brunette, speeding up as he walked. Clyde kept pace with him, frowning thoughtfully.

"I'm telling you, it just isn't right," Clyde continued, ignoring the second, aggravated sigh that Craig let out, "People's hair just doesn't change color like that…"

"I'm really not in the mood for this kind of shit right now," Craig growled, shooting a glare over at Clyde. Once again, the brunette ignored him.

"I'm just saying, Craig, its fucking weird… one day its brown, one day its black," Clyde said, sticking his hands in his jacket pockets and kicking at a loose stone on the sidewalk.

"Clyde, you gotta get your eye's checked," Craig shook his head, "You're the only one seeing this _magical hair transformation_, you know that?"

"What're you talking about?" Clyde looked at him, "You see it too."

"Whatever," Craig muttered, staring straight ahead. He really wanted this conversation to stop.

"Go on, tell me you don't see it happening, go ahead. Tell me you aren't surprised each time you look in the mirror in the morning," Clyde prodded, "Go ahead, prove me wrong."

"Shut the fuck up," Craig flipped him off again, more energetically than before, and the brunette let out a triumphant laugh.

"You DO know what I'm talking about!" He grinned happily. His expression soon faded to one of serious thought, "But, honestly dude, what the fuck is up with your hair?"

"ARGH," Craig let out a noise that was seriously too loud to be a mere groan, and restrained himself from smacking his friend in the face. "Remind me why you're my best friend?"

"Because I know where all the good porn is," Clyde said, matter of fact, and with no leers or innuendos whatsoever.

"Idiot," Craig growled.

"Look, just because-"

"Hey guys, busy?" A cheerful voice cut off the argument before it could start.

"Yes, very, fuck off," Craig responded, more out of habit than anything else.

Kenny frowned at him, a little confused. The blond hadn't done anything to deserve that kind of greeting; at least, not today. But Craig kept his gaze averted from his direction; Kenny was _not_ a person he wanted to be seeing at the moment.

"Ignore him, Ken, he's just being a royal pain in the ass today," Clyde frowned at Craig also, and now he was being frowned at from both sides.

Great. Fucking great.

"You two can just go fuck off," Craig said, flipping them both off before speeding up, leaving the two to trail behind him.

"I'm guessing today wouldn't be a good day to ask about hanging out, huh?" Kenny asked, and Craig heard Clyde snort.

"Oh no, I'm sure Craig would love to hang out, you know, after he stops_PMSing_," Clyde accented the last words, and Craig heard Kenny laugh.

"You guys are… you're just," Craig gritted his teeth, refusing to look behind at them, "Just fuck off, I'm busy today."

"That's right, he's _busy_ today, too busy to hang out with friends, or go someplace, or do something…" Clyde said, only slightly bitter.

Well, it was true that he wasn't making much time for friends lately..

But…

An arm landed across his shoulders, and he jerked, finding Kenny's face suddenly right next to his own.

"Aww, come on Craig, you can make some time for _me_ at least, right?" The blond grinned, eyes sparkling. Craig grimaced, making a half-assed attempt to push the blond away. Kenny was too close, much too close, and he wasn't in the right state of mind to be fighting with _those_ kinds of feelings at the moment.

"Fuck off, Kenny," Craig turned away from him, trying to speed up and get out of his hold, but Kenny didn't let him get away.

"Come on, just five minutes," Kenny pleaded, "5, short, little minutes…"

"5 minutes, huh?" Craig couldn't help it, annoyed and aggravated as it was, openings like that had to be taken advantage of. "I thought you'd be able to last longer than that."

Kenny leered at him, raising an eyebrow and leaning in closer.

"I can last all night, if that's what you want," The blond purred, and Craig heard Clyde laugh behind them.

Ugh, he really didn't need that imagery right now. All night, all night…

Oh man…

He shoved Kenny away, hard enough to detach himself from his hold, and ignored the shocked and annoyed look that appeared on the blond's face.

"Like I said, I'm busy. Now fuck off," Craig hunched his shoulders and stalked off, picking up the pace. He could hear Clyde and Kenny talking in the background, but he ignored them. Shit, shit, that's just what he needed. Besides, he'd already picked, hadn't he? He'd made his decision, so he shouldn't be feeling this… conflicted.

No. He stamped down those emotions; he wasn't feeling anything, anything for anyone. He just… wasn't feeling, that's right.

"Craig, wait up," Clyde jogged up to catch him, "Dude, why're you in such a rush?"

"I have to get somewhere," Craig muttered, not looking at him.

"Where?" Clyde asked, but Craig didn't answer. The brunette sighed, rolling his eyes. "Fuck, it's like this every Saturday, you go off somewhere, you don't tell anyone where, and then you come back and you're all pissy again, and it takes forever for you to get back to normal."

Clyde paused, looking at Craig hopefully, but no response was coming.

"Fine, whatever," Clyde sighed, "But on another topic…"

"Fuck, why?" Craig groaned.

"Are you ever gonna give Kenny a chance?" Clyde asked, and in such a nonchalant, normal tone of voice that it stopped Craig in his tracks.

"What? A chance?" Craig almost sputtered, but stopped. He didn't think anyone knew about… about… "What are you talking about?"

"Craig, the guy's hitting on you practically 24-7…" Clyde rolled his eyes, as if this should all be apparent, "I just wanna know if you're going to go for him or not…"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Craig said angrily, starting off down the sidewalk again, "I'm not fucking gay…"

"Huh, that's news to me," Clyde said, and Craig stopped in his tracks again. He turned, a very shocked and very surprised look on his face, to the brunette where he still stood, a few feet behind him.

"What are you talking about?" Craig said, his voice lower than before. Clyde sighed, deeply, and slowly walked over to where Craig stood.

"Craig. Buddy. How long have we known each other?" Clyde began, putting a hand on Craig's shoulder and turning him to face forward.

"Forever," Craig said, frowning slightly.

Clyde was pushing him along now, walking next to him with one hand still on his shoulder.

"That's right, so we know quite a lot about each other, right?" Clyde asked, and Craig nodded, looking at him out of the corner of his eye. "So, who was it that used to steal his sister's stuffed unicorn toy whenever he came to sleep over at my house when he was five?"

"That doesn't mean anything," Craig said quickly, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks. Shit, but he'd been a fucked up kid.

"Right, anyways, the point is, I've seen you do quite a lot of stuff over the years, Craig," Clyde said, stopping them both and turning to face Craig eye to eye. "And I'm going to be honest with you, if you don't think you're gay, I'm telling you:_ you are_."

Craig stared at him stupidly. How the hell can someone just go and say that to someone else? Even if it is their best friend they're saying it to?

"You have no fucking proof, Clyde," Craig growled, realizing that by saying that he was probably proving Clyde's observation himself.

"When's the last time you were with a girl, Craig?" Clyde asked, looking him in the eyes. Craig fidgeted slightly.

"What the fuck does that have to do with anything?" He snapped, making to turn away, "I have to go."

Clyde reached out and grabbed him by the shoulders, pulling Craig back in front of himself.

"Listen, it's all right," Clyde said, "It's cool. And if you don't want to talk about it now, that's all right too. Just, you know… I'm all right with this, so you don't have to worry about that."

"Whatever," Craig pulled out of his grasp, heading off down the sidewalk. He didn't want to have to look at Clyde anymore, not right then. Shit, shit, how the hell did Clyde find out? Craig hadn't even known until… until not too long ago, but shit. Shit.

And Clyde didn't even like gays…

Craig stopped, a sudden pressure rising in his chest. Shit, Clyde didn't like gay guys. He didn't. He just put up with Kenny because the blond planned awesome parties, and didn't try hitting on him, but others… Clyde _did not like gays_.

Craig turned around to see Clyde still standing where he'd been left, ten feet behind and giving him a puzzled look.

"Clyde, you don't like gay guys," Craig said, felt the pressure in his chest squeezing. Shit, Clyde was his best friend. Shit, he said he was okay with it, but… but.. shit.

"Nah, man, I don't like _fags_, I'm fine with gay guys," Clyde said, grinning brightly.

Craig felt the relief wash over him, making away with the pressure in his chest, and he responded with a large grin of his own. He hadn't even known he'd been worried about this, but Clyde was right, it helped. It helped a lot.

"I'll see you later, dude," Clyde said, giving him a half-wave, and turned to head away.

Craig turned around also, heading onwards to his destination. All right, so he probably wouldn't be able to talk to Clyde about certain specifics, and hell, he hadn't yet admitted it, not _really_, and he should before he could be able to deal with it, but at least now he felt a little bit better about things. A little bit more open.

He could see it, just up ahead, the building where he was supposed to be headed. His steps began to slow the closer he got to it, until, finally, he came to a complete stop. There were still two, short blocks between him and the building, but he found he couldn't make himself cross them.

The thoughts in his head were wavering. He'd been put off quite a bit by Kenny's sudden appearance, although he'd rather not admit it, not even to himself. Still, a part of him realized that if he went there, as turmoil-headed as he was at the moment, he might end up saying things that he'd regret later. And yes, there were many things he didn't want to say, many things he didn't want to talk about.

But, then again, if he didn't go there, they would definitely call his parents. And if they called his parents, then they'd get on his case for why he wasn't there. And then he'd need a viable excuse, something better than "my head got fucked up so I didn't go". He doubted he'd be able to think up a good enough excuse, even if he'd had more time to plan.

Gritting his teeth, he took a step forward, then another. Honestly, it felt as if he were a mouse trying to walk across one of those glue traps, his feet seeming to stick to the sidewalk each time he set them down. He paused, taking a deep breath and shaking his head. He had to go, there was no way around it. Setting his jaw, a determined look on his face, he set off towards the building, struggling internally all the way.

Each step was a pain, but he made it. He was sure he'd seen quite a few puzzled glances sent his way as he passed people on the sidewalk, but he'd ignored them, tried not to let them get to him. He stood in front of the double doors, biting his lip and fighting the urge to get away.

There was no way around it, he just had to go…

Pushing open the doors, he headed in quickly. He always felt weird entering these offices, always felt a little nervous. With the added confusion in his head, today he ended up feeling panicky, as if caught in a trap. He stuck his hands in his pockets, fisting them in an attempt to keep them from shaking. He was already a few minutes late, so, without saying a word to the receptionist, he turned off into the left hallway and headed to a door halfway down. At least he didn't have to take the stairs, even this short walk was making him jumpy.

Would she figure out something was wrong? Of course she would, she was a fucking therapist. But maybe, if he could only calm down, he'd be able to keep his expression from revealing too much. Yeah, yeah, that could work. It could.

He steeled himself as he neared the door. Gritting his teeth, he put his hand on the doorknob. He turned it, slowly, because his hand was slightly shaking, because he didn't want to be thinking about the thoughts that were in his head. He turned it, he opened the door, he walked in, he let the door close behind him. Ms. Kelling looked up from her desk with a smile.

"Hello, Craig," She began, then stopped for a moment, looking at him thoughtfully. "What's wrong?"

Nothing, nothing is wrong, he was perfectly fine and there was nothing bothering him—

"I can't choose," Craig said, then stopped himself, dumbfounded. What the hell? Where the hell did that come from?

"Choose?" Ms. Kelling looked puzzled. "Choose what?"

"Nothing, nothing," Craig turned away from her, walking over to sit heavily in a chair. "I don't feel like talking today."

"Well, I can't say that surprises me much, Craig," Ms. Kelling said with a slight sigh, "You hardly ever feel like talking."

"This time I mean it," He said, looking at her angrily. "I don't feel like talking. About anything."

"Craig…" Ms.Kelling started, "Craig, if something bothers you this much, then you should talk about it… if you don't, it will just end up growing, and growing, and you'll just feel worse and worse…"

"I'm fine." Craig spat, turning to look out the window. He was fine. He wasn't worried, he wasn't confused. He was normal and fine and he couldn't—fuck—he couldn't _decide_. He couldn't choose.

And Ms. Kelling was watching him, waiting for him to speak, to say something, but he didn't want to, he didn't want to talk about what bothered him so much. She wouldn't understand, even if she could explain it, no one could understand. Why the hell did he have to feel like this? Why couldn't he stop it? Why wouldn't it just leave him alone?

"I'll figure it out by myself," Craig muttered, watching a group of sparrows fly from branch to branch of the tree standing outside the building. That's right; he could figure it out himself. Eventually. Right now he didn't want to think about it anymore, didn't want to think about anything anymore.

"Craig… you need to learn that you can depend on someone other than yourself, you can't force yourself to deal with troubles alone all the time," Ms. Kelling said, looking at him hopefully. He avoided her gaze, staring hard out the wind.

He didn't want to think.

* * *

Craig entered his house feeling delightfully detached. He didn't remember much of the time he'd spent in Ms. Kelling's office, and the walk home had left a pleasantly blank period of time in his memories. His brain was filled with the hum of white noise, effectively canceling out everything that had been around him.

This was perfect, this was exactly what he needed. This was the easiest way to getting some peace, without having to hide away somewhere.

His shoes ended up on the mat just inside the doorway; he was heading towards the kitchen without really thinking about it.

"Oh, you're back, that's good."

He started, realizing suddenly that he'd almost walked into the open fridge door. His mom, finishing rummaging around inside of the appliance, stood up and closed the door. She placed the items in her arms on the kitchen counter and turned to smile at him.

"Craig, can you go ask your father if he'd like a sandwich for lunch?" She said, still smiling. Craig felt a twist start somewhere around his stomach, but it didn't hit him yet.

" 'kay," He muttered, heading out through the doorway and into the adjacent room. His dad was sprawled in the sofa, his feet up on the coffee table, eyes focused on what seemed to be a nature program about crocodiles. "Dad, mom wants to know if you want a sandwich…"

"Tell your mother," The tone in the words made the twisting in Craig's gut worse, "That I'm not hungry."

Craig grunted, shuffling back to the kitchen, where his mom was spreading butter over slices of rye bread.

"Dad says he's not hungry," Craig reported.

"Well, tell your father that dinner is going to be late today, so he should eat now unless he wants to starve until the evening," His mom responded, the cheery tone cracking at one point.

Craig, deciding it would be better not to say anything more to her, headed back to the living room, feet heavy.

"Mom says dinners going to be late…" He started, hesitant. The pleasant haven of white noise he'd built up so carefully was fading.

"Well then, I guess I'll just have to survive somehow," His dad interrupted, his voice harsh. He shifted heavily on the sofa, and Craig backed away.

On the tv screen a crocodile pulled a young gazelle into churning waters.

Back to the kitchen. Craig almost crept in through the doorway, standing rather nervously at the edge of the counter, well out of his mom's reach, and eyed the knife in her hand, slicing through a tomato with quick, sharp movements.

"Dad… says he'll… survive somehow…"

"Well, of course he'll survive!" The chops became harsher, tomato seeds and guts squeezing out to stain the cutting board a murky red. "He has a _spare tire full of fat_ that could last him all winter!"

Her voice had risen loud enough to be heard in the living room. Behind him, Craig heard the volume on the tv raise. The traumatized calls of dying antelopes suddenly surrounded him. His mom was still talking, still saying things, but he'd focused on some point behind her, a spot on the wall, a spot, a spot. His haze of white noise was fading, everything was blaring painfully loud around him.

He could see his mom's face, she was looking at him, but the anger that had been in her eyes moments before was replaced by pained worry.

"Craig? Craig, honey," She lay the knife next to the cutting board, reaching out a hand to touch his cheek. "Craig, look at me."

"I… I'm not feeling that good…" Craig looked at her, but he didn't focus. Didn't want to focus. His vision was hazy. "I think I'm going to go take a walk."

His mom gave looked at him closely, plainly worried.

"Maybe you should eat something first, you must be hungry," She said, motherly instincts proposing that food cured everything.

"No, no…" Craig, backed away a little, "Thanks, but I'm… not hungry."

He frowned, shaking his head, and turned away. It sounded as if his mom wanted to say something else, but she fell silent, and he headed back to the front door. Slipping on his shoes, he headed back out, staring at the ground as he did. His sister was coming down the walkway as he left, and he brushed past her. She must have said something, he was sure he heard it, but he was focused on the ground. Focused on bringing back that pure static. That twist in his guts was still there, still weighing down his guts.

"Hey, Craiggy-boy, how's it going?"

Craig jerked, shot out of his pseudo-meditation, to find Kenny a few paces down the street from him. The blond was leaning back against the wall of one of the buildings on the street. It seemed that Craig had made his way into the commercial district of the town, and he looked around, shocked by the fact that he was no longer surrounded by houses anymore. Had he really gotten that out of it?

"Hey, you all right?" Kenny looked at him curiously, his bright smile fading slightly. Craig grunted back noncommittally. Fuck. No matter what, he always seemed to be a few steps too far away from getting some peace of mind.

"Not in the mood for talking," Craig said finally, beginning to head onwards down the sidewalk.

"Well, there's always other things to do besides talking," Kenny said, giving him a grin and a wink.

It was so obvious, was that why he was ignoring it so much? Was that the_only_ reason he was ignoring it?

Or attempting to, rather. The blond's advances were more than just annoying, they were making him think things he didn't want to be thinking.

Besides, he'd already chosen…

Craig kept walking, choosing to stay silent rather than react to the words.

And maybe it was because of his silence, his total lack of response, that Kenny was emboldened enough to walk up close next to him, his side brushing the darker-haired boy's. Craig's hand, hanging loosely at his side, brushed against the side of Kenny's jeans-clad leg, and the tingle that sprung up in his fingers spread up his arm and jolted through his body much faster than he would have liked it to.

He clenched his teeth, looking away, across the street. White haze, white haze -- but he was fighting a losing battle – white haze…

"Come on, Craig," Kenny's voiced suddenly sounded in his ears, low and soft. The blond's fingers pulled lightly at his shirt, and each place a fingertip touched Craig felt that jolt of warmth spring up, heat spreading…

He turned his head, jerked it rather, to face the blond. Kenny was grinning at him, that lazy, seductive grin, his blue eyes glittering. Craig was suddenly reminded of crocodiles.

"As long as there's no talking…" He was shocked to hear the words come out of his mouth, but realized then that he shouldn't be. That ache that he'd managed to isolate in the back of his mind was out in full force.

But he'd _chosen_…

But… this was _different_…

Was it really possible…, his mind started wandering as he headed onward, herded by the eager blond to wherever it was they were going, Was it really possible to feel like this?

Was it really possible that sometimes, in some things, you _just can't choose_?

Was it really possible that sometimes, you had to choose both?


	4. Out Of The Frying Pan

Disclaimer: South Park and all characters in it are copyright Matt Stone and Trey Parker, not me.

A/N:

Holey Bejeebus! 8 reviews! O: Thanks everybody! :D

Oh, hey, its one of those chapters after which I have to write a fluffy one to make up for it. I'd say I'm sorry but I'm not, and I'd rather not lie to you all. X3

**THANK YOU**:

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* * *

Title: A Neapolitan Love Story

Author: Zoshi the Confused  
Rating: Ranging, mostly PG-PG13

Category: South Park

Genre: General

May contain: Shounen-Ai/Boy Love, Violence, Adult Situations, Swearing

* * *

The fan hummed to life on the ceiling, blades beginning to rotate slowly, and Craig scowled into the still dark room. Someone had been inside it, again, and turned off the light with the hanging chain, again. He stalked into the middle of the room in the near dark, fumbled around blindly for a moment, and caught the thin chain. With a sharp jerk, the light bulbs flashed on, and the chain snapped, arcing down to slap him on the top of his head. It didn't hurt, but he tossed it at the floor angrily anyways.

"Craig, dinner's going to be ready in a few minutes, so…"

He cut his mother's words off with a sharp glance. She stood just outside his door, caught off guard, and looked at him curiously.

"You were in my room," he said, volume normal but tone slightly rising past _calm_ and into _annoyed_. His mother exhaled softly, but he continued to glare at her.

"Craig, I had to come in to—"

"You were in my room, and you messed with my stuff. Again." His voice was raising now, his sentence ending with a sharp rise.

"Craig—"

"I told you to leave my room alone. Leave it alone." He growled, his words coming out chopped and harsh. His mother opened her mouth again, but he cut her off before she could speak. "What is this? Huh? Do you see this?"

He pointed at an old X-Men figure, Wolverine with his claws nearly chewed off, that was standing on the top of his desk among a collection of other random items, books and knickknacks and things he'd never gotten around to putting away. His mother didn't look at it, he noticed, but continued looking at him, and breathing that same way.

"This. Wasn't. Here." His voice had become a growl, and he felt the finger that was pointing at the figurine shake.

"Craig, listen to me…" Her voice was calm, controlled, and she had her hands out in front of her, palms out, angling towards the floor as her arms moved up and down slightly with each word.

He didn't want to be calmed down.

Turning away from her, he grabbed as many things on his desk as he could, and knocked as much as he could onto the floor in one swipe.

"If you were going to move it, you should have just tossed it on the floor!" He growled some more, turning back to her breathing heavily although the action hadn't required that much effort.

"Craig, stop. Stop this right now." She was aggravated, he could tell by the way her eyes were flaring and the red was rising on her cheekbones, but she was playing saint and keeping calm. He hated it when she did it, just like he hated it when she moved his stuff. And if she'd moved one thing, there's a good chance she'd moved others. She always did. Everyone did, if it wasn't her it was his dad, or his sister. Fuck. He couldn't even spend a Sunday out with his friends without worrying whether or not his things would be touched. Sometimes he felt as if he couldn't be safe just putting his things were he wanted them to be, as if it didn't matter how he arranged them, because they'd all be moved around anyway.

"I told you not to touch anything in my room, didn't I? Didn't I?!" He nearly screamed it, and the red in his mother's cheeks blossomed, traveling across her face as her arms dropped to her sides and her hands fisted. "I told you to leave my shit alone, and you couldn't fucking do it could you?"

"Don't you use that language in this house!" She yelled back at him, raising a hand to point viciously at him. He growled and turned back towards the desk. Once more he swiped things off the top of it, books thudding to the ground, followed by CD cases, empty and not so empty, and the twang of loose CD's as they bounced off the floor.

"Stop! Stop right now! Craig, you are going to stop and calm down right now! Do you hear me?! Stop!" She was screaming at him now, but he wasn't paying attention to it. Teeth clenched, he flipped her off before he realized he'd done it, and received another indignant shriek. Turning away from her he focused back on his desk, looking it over with a quick, critical eye. The books on the topmost shelf were out of order; he never, _ever_ put his Forgotten Realms books before the Bradbury anthologies. It took two hard shoves to clear that shelf, and the resounding crashes effectively blocked out most of his mother's frantic monologue. By the time he began picking the CD cases out of the holder on the second shelf and tossing them over his shoulder his mother had fallen into repeating a few words over and over, words he could barely hear over the blood pounding through his ears.

"Craig, stop. Stop, please…" She was pleading with him now, her hands fisted at her sides again, and shaking slightly. "Stop… stop, Craig. Please…"

"All of my shit…. All of my shit moved around…" He muttered it, out of breath from emotion rather than physical exertion, and in a sudden moment of risen anger he grabbed the entire CD holder and tossed it aside. His mother winced as it struck the floor with a sharp crack, most of the cases inside of it scattering as it fell. A few CD's rolled and bounced across the floor, but he barely reacted, instead looking for any other inconsistencies in his things. Finally becoming fully aware of his mother's words, he turned to face her.

"What the fuck else did you touch?" He said, almost savagely, and she shuddered visibly.

"Nothing. Craig, I didn't move—"

"BULLSHIT. I know you did, what else did you move? What are you looking for, huh?" That had to be it, he thought. She had to be looking for something, they all were looking for something. What the fuck did they think, coming into his room. Moving his things. Putting them back all wrong. ALL. WRONG.

"Get out! Get the fuck out! And don't you ever, EVER, touch anything in my room again. EVER." He yelled, he could feel the words ripping out of him, and he saw his mother shake with the force of his words, as if hit by a physical force.

"We'll talk later…" She said, calmly although her hands were still fisted tightly and turned away, heading down the hallway.

Craig turned back to his desk, ignoring her exit as much as he'd ignored her words, and shoved a few stray items that had lingered on his desk onto the floor. He couldn't understand why she continued to do it, why they all did it. As if they thought he'd never catch on. As if they could ever hide it from him.

Moving further in his room, he kicked aside his desk chair. By the time it was stopped with a loud _thwack_ by his bed frame he was by his dresser. One glance and he sent most of the items on top of it cascading to the floor. Another X-Men figurine, Gambit this time, bounced off a rug, the quarterstaff dislodging and rolling to a stop by the wall. A picture frame, with a picture filled with black, landed with the sharp crash of breaking glass, followed by a full collection of pens that Craig had never used because they'd been here, on his dresser, and not on his desk.

He was about to move back to his desk to start looking through the drawers when a low, drawn out whistle stopped him. Turning a glare in the direction of his doorway he found his sister staring at the mess in his room with wide eyes.

"Geez, Craig, didn't you go through this just last week?" She said, shaking her head sadly. He flipped her off, which didn't seem to do much. "You know, I thought you were going to that psych-chick to get your head _fixed_. Doesn't seem to be working too well, huh?"

He jolted with a growl, walking over sprawled books and CDs angrily, and she jumped slightly, squeaking, and backed to the far wall of the hallway.

"Fuck. Off." He said from behind gritted teeth, gripping the door edge tightly. She shrugged slightly.

"I'm just saying, bro…"

"FUCK OFF."

Slamming the door, he turned back to his room, but he'd barely taken two steps before her voice came again.

"I'm guessing you're not coming down for dinner then?"

He didn't realized he'd launched a book at the door until it had actually hit it, sounding with a thud almost louder than when the door was slammed, if possible. He was breathing hard, and he could still hear the pounding in his head, pounding that kept pace with the beat of his heart. His head hurt, hurt fucking bad, there was a pain shooting through it directly between his eyes, like a thousand needles sticking him at once. When he looked around his room he was struck by an awful feeling, like someone had taken an ice pick to his stomach, dug it in deep and jiggled the point around, turned and twisted it until his insides had casseroled into one lump. And then imploded. And were now sucking him into that big, empty space just below his rib cage. His breath came fast, almost wheezing, as if he were running uphill in ninety degree weather; his mouth felt dry.

Suddenly, the anger that had been blazing through him was gone, leaving him feeling weak and wobbly. The hole in his stomach was still there, but he didn't feel much like fighting its gravity any longer. He shuffled through the debris on his floor and tossed himself onto his bed, burying his face into his sheets and trying to ignore the fact that the ceiling fan was still humming happily above him.

* * *

A few hours earlier found him walking over to Clyde's house, having made himself a promise that he would, indeed, no longer neglect his friends just because he wasn't feeling up to meeting with them. If it had been a once-a-month sort of thing, it wouldn't have mattered, but lately he just didn't want to meet up with anyone, anytime, at all. Honestly, although he'd noticed it, a little, in the back of his mind, he wasn't really made aware of the fact until Clyde had mentioned it the day before. And it bothered him. He knew he wasn't the most likeable person around, and he had been in more arguments with his friends than he could count, but they were still his friends. They still stuck by him when he needed them to. He depended on them, really, because it was thanks to them that he could relax a little and stop thinking about the things that bothered him so much.

Token and Tweek had been there already, and even Jason managed to make it before things really got started. Most of the five hours were spent playing video games, eating pizza, and generally wreaking havoc in Clyde's living room. Clyde had managed to wheedle his parents into getting him every game system on the planet, and they had more than enough games to pick from.

Still, Craig couldn't relax completely. He wanted to, he wanted to be _all there_ and pay attention when they were talking to him, but he couldn't. Instead of listening to the banter, joking along with the guys, he found himself fighting off sudden bouts of anxiety. More than once he was hit by a sudden sense of weightlessness, his eyes unfocused and his ears humming. His heart would start pounding and he'd have a hard time taking breaths. He'd had to fake his way through them, a few times actually leaving the room, going to the kitchen or bathroom to try and clear his head and get back before the guys noticed something was wrong. He wasn't being too good at it, it seemed, or maybe his closest friend was just a mind reader or something, because Clyde had begun following him out the last couple times with stupid excuses.

Now, halfway through a round of SSBB, he felt another attack coming on. His head suddenly felt hollow, his throat got tight, the controller felt shaky in his hands, or maybe it was his hands feeling shaky around the controller. He couldn't see straight, but the guys were all focused on the game, so he tried to make Link run around with some semblance of control. He tried to focus on the feel of the controller, but his fingers kept slipping off of the buttons, and the colors on the screen were getting distant; he felt as if he were slipping backwards, as if he were looking at everything through a long, long telescope. Forcing himself, he thought he'd make it, until Kirby got nailed by Bowser, and Tweek jerked next to him, squeaking straight in his ear.

"GAH Not again I can't believe it –ergh- I'm horrible at this game," Tweek grabbed his hair, twisting his fingers in the uneven blond lengths and wailed, "I'm always losing…"

Craig felt his hands spasm at the sudden outburst; the controller dropped to the floor with a clatter. Everything around him faded into the distance, and he dropped his head to his knees, pressing his hands against his ears. They weren't humming anymore, they were buzzing viciously, and they were blocking out almost all the noise around him. He held his breath – as if that would help – but that only made him more aware of how hard his heart was pounding at the moment. He tried not to focus on what was causing these attacks – he knew damn well what it was – and tried to blank out on everything. Everything. Everything was white and fuzzy, everything was blocked out, he wasn't thinking, wasn't thinking…

"Craig? Craig, dude, you okay?"

There was a hand on his shoulder, shaking him. He didn't want to respond yet, but it was breaking through the fuzzy white around him. He clenched his hands around his ears, squeezing his eyes shut in an effort to keep the words out, keep everything out.

It wasn't working.

"Craig! Snap out of it!"

He jerked up and away from the hand on his shoulder, out of habit raising his hand to flip off whomever it was bothering him.

Clyde stared at him, half-amused, half-concerned.

"Alright, so you're _not_ a total goner…" He sighed, then patted Craig's shoulder again. "Relax, will you? You scared the fuck out of us."

Craig blinked, the humming in his ears fading to a near-silent buzz. Looking around, he saw they were alone, the TV was off, and the controllers put away.

"What the… where is everybody?" He turned around the other way, checking behind them, but still no one was there.

"I told them to go ahead and leave," Clyde said, shrugging. "You were out for a while, dude. Fucked up shit. Couldn't get you to react to anything. Tweek was twitching like a ferret hopped up on sugar pills, so Token got him outta here, and Jason left with them…"

He eyed Craig from his seat on the sofa arm for a long moment, long enough that he became uncomfortable, twisting slightly so he wouldn't be facing him head on.

"What's wrong, Craig?" Clyde asked, calmly but resolutely. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," Craig grumbled, slouching back into the couch. Clyde frowned.

"Craig, what the hell is going on? Tell me. I'm not letting you leave this fucking house until you do," Clyde caught Craig by the shoulder as he tried to stand and sat him back down. "And no, you can't leave until I tell you you can."

"Clyde. Fuck off." Craig dropped his head back into his hands. It was starting to hurt bad, just around his eyes and forehead.

"Craig, I want to help you, but I can't do that if you don't tell me anything," Clyde said with barely restrained aggravation. Craig restrained a sigh and groaned instead.

"Shut up Clyde. You sound like a fucking after-school special." Craig ground the heels of his hands into his eyes in the hope that that pain would block out the headache. No luck.

"Craig-"

"Shit is fucked up, all right? That enough?" Craig picked his head up to glare at him, but it didn't seem to work as he wanted it to. Actually, he didn't feel as if he was glaring at all, no matter how hard he tried. He felt the tell-tale eyebrow-tremble, the way his throat tightened, and returned to his head-in-hands position, attempting to ignore the dampness on his face.

"…home?" Clyde said softly, reluctantly, as if the word had a hard time leaving his tongue.

Craig winced, but he knew that Clyde _knew_ about that situation at least… Clyde just probably didn't know about all the other things that were adding to the problem. He heard the other boy sigh, and he imagined him nodding his head slightly.

"Dunno… you gotta buck up, dude, keep your head… I mean, it can't last forever, right?" Clyde's words made sense, and Craig knew he was trying to give him some hope…

"Doesn't help," Craig admitted after a moment, shaking his head slightly. There was a shift on the couch cushions; Clyde had moved off of the sofa arm and sat down next to him, but remained silent. "You know, just 'cause it has to end, doesn't… doesn't mean it'll end good, right?"

There was a long silence then, long and tense.

"I… dunno… I mean…" Clyde struggled with the words, but Craig shook his head, still held in his hands.

"Nothing you can do. Nothing anyone can do…" He frowned, at himself mostly, struggling to keep it in still, all in.

"That's not the only thing bothering you…" Clyde said, switching topics to what he probably hoped was a safer one.

"You're not going to leave me the fuck alone, are you?" Craig mumbled, moving his hands to his hair and wincing at the growing headache.

"No, I'm not…" Clyde gave him a small grin, then patted him on the back. "Come on, talk to me."

Craig stayed silent, and Clyde sighed again.

"All right, look, I met Kenny out on Main today…" Clyde started.

"Kenny? What was he doing there so early?" Craig said, not quite paying exact attention to Clyde's words.

"He's got soccer practice on Sundays, he catches the northbound bus to North Park out there," Clyde explained shortly, "But that's not the point…"

Suddenly Craig jerked upright, Clyde's words finally getting through to him.

"You talked to Kenny?" He asked, his hands still frozen a few inches above his knees, his eyes wide.

"Yeah, I talked to Kenny." Clyde said, looking at Craig closely, watching for his reaction. Craig didn't know what to do; fuck, Clyde knew then. He _knew_.

"…he told you…" Craig said, voice dropping. Clyde looked puzzled, raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, not exactly the reaction I was expecting. Maybe the one I _should_ have expected, but not the one I expected." Clyde frowned, "Something go wrong?"

Craig wasn't entirely listening. He was trying to think. Trying. Clyde knew. If Kenny told Clyde, who else had he told? If he told Clyde, then he'd tell anyone, right? Right?

"Fuck! Who else knows?" Craig grabbed at Clyde's shirt, twisting his fingers into it and leaning into the other boys face.

"Jesus, Craig, I don't know!" Clyde leaned back, looking slightly frightened at the situation. "I don't think he went around telling people about it, it's not exactly that kind of situation here…"

"He told you."

"Yeah, but dude, we're BF's, and I know all about this little 'thing', right?" Clyde tried to pry Craig's hand off of his shirt, but wasn't getting far. "He was giddy as hell, thought you'd be a little more upbeat too…"

"He told them," Craig said, no longer looking at Clyde but at some distant point over his shoulder. "Shit, _SHIT_, he told them…"

"Them?" Clyde asked, confused for a moment, then: "Oh, _them_, yeah, well, I guess he'd tell them, they are his BF's, right? ...though he probably didn't tell Cartman."

Clyde looked thoughtful for a moment, "You know, if he told anyone, he probably told Stan. He always talks about Stan being the most trustworthy out of all of them…"

Craig let go of Clyde's shirt, suddenly being flooded by nausea and assaulted by a sudden black hole in the pit of his stomach.

"Shit!" He moaned, dropping back against the back of the sofa and slouching down, eyes directed towards the ceiling.

"Okay, dude, totally lost here." Clyde raised his hands in surrender, "Totally."

"If Stan knows then Kyle knows…" Craig covered his face with his hands; maybe if his eyes were closed he wouldn't feel like he was getting twisted inside out. Maybe not.

"Yeah… Makes sense, I guess…" Clyde admitted, "Why does it matter if he knows or not?"

_Why does it matter? Why does it matter? It matters_, Craig thought, _it matters because after being an ass and embarrassing him in front of half the guys in our class, I got piss drunk and kissed him on Stan's porch. That's why it matters._

Craig dropped his hands to his knees and turned his head to face Clyde, fully prepared to give some other explanation, only to find the brown-haired boy staring at him, utter shock on his face.

Oh.

Shit.

He didn't.

"You did _what_?!" Clyde's voice just barely managed to rise above a whisper, but it sounded strained.

"I didn't say anything," Craig shot back, flipping him off for good measure. Not what he wanted to say. NOT.

"So… Kyle…" Clyde struggled for words for a moment, finally shooting out, "But why Kyle?"

"No." Craig said simply, wrapping his arms around his stomach.

"No. NO. Fuck you, you tell me that, and then you expect me not to want to know more?!" Clyde shouted, "What the fuck, dude?"

"Really don't want to talk about…" Craig muttered, the twisting in his stomach was getting worse.

"Craig-"

"I have to go home," He jolted off of the sofa before Clyde could react, hurrying over to the front door. Clyde followed him, and although Craig was moving as fast as he could the other boy caught him by the arm just before the door.

"Craig, look at me," Clyde said, and although he didn't want to he did, turning around to face his friend. Clyde looked worried, and eyed him closely, as though the secret to taking care of all the things that bothered Craig was written on his face. "Craig, you don't have to do all of this alone, all right? Remember that."

Craig just nodded, wanting nothing more than to get out, out, right then and right away. He hadn't wanted to let that much out, just great, just another thing for Clyde to worry over when he thought of him. Shit, as if he hadn't given the guy enough to worry about over the years.

He left with Clyde watching him go from the doorway. He didn't look back, and he tried not to think about how things were going to go on from now. From this point. Tried to just not think about things at all.

He wished he didn't have to worry about things like this. Wished he'd inherited the I-Don't-Give-A-Fuck gene everyone else in his family seemed to have, wished he hadn't had to pretend to have it all these years and get so used to being an apathetic bastard that he couldn't turn it off anymore. Wished he actually had it so he wouldn't care where he went, and with who. Wished he didn't have morals, and wished those morals didn't go against everything he felt inside.

Wished he would learn to pay attention where he was going while his head was in those dark clouds.

"Kyle."

He said it more as a reflex than anything else. For a moment he thought it was his mind playing tricks on him, but the redhead stopped a few steps away, having been ready to walk past him but caught by his voice.

Kyle looked in his direction, towards him but not at him, said nothing. Craig looked at him, wanting to say… something. Anything. _Kyle knew_. He could see that, could see how rigidly he stood. His hands fidgeted at the edges of his pants pockets, he swallowed thickly, knowing he didn't have much time before Kyle got fed up with the situation and walked away.

"Kyle, listen…" He started, but didn't get far past that. A spasm crossed the redhead's face, his eyes flickered off to the side.

"It's fine. I understand." Kyle said sharply, jerked a half-step as if he was going to walk off. Craig reached out, grabbed him by the arm before he could move anymore. The redhead lost his cool at his touch, tried to jerk his arm away from Craig's hold. He glared down at Craig's hand, then straight at him. His eyes burned, and Craig felt as if he was standing in front of an open oven at full blast.

"It's fine." Kyle spat, "I wouldn't pick me either."

Craig, caught off guard, loosened his hold, and Kyle ripped his arm away from him, turning to walk off. After a moment Craig headed after him, catching up and grabbing him by the arm again. The redhead spun around viciously, eyes blazing.

"What do you want?" He growled, trying to get out of Craig's hold again.

"It's not like you think, Kyle, it… it isn't…" Craig started, but Kyle just shook his head, trying to get his arm loose again.

"Just forget about it," Kyle growled, glaring at him some more. Craig struggled to keep a grip on him still.

"I can't," The words shot out before he could stop them. Kyle still struggled, but not as strongly as before.

"What do you mean you can't?!" Kyle grumbled this time instead of growling, avoiding Craig's eyes once again. Craig dropped his hand from Kyle's arm suddenly, and the redhead stumbled as he tried to jerk his arm out of thin air. He stopped himself after a step, finally looking into Craig's eyes, and said again, softer this time, "What do you mean?"

Craig couldn't look away, his eyes caught with Kyle's, unable to break that hold. When he spoke, the words came out as if he were speaking in a trance, unbidden.

"I like you." Followed that with a wince, because he didn't really like talking about things like that, they made him feel vulnerable. Open. Too open.

"What?" Kyle said, with the kind of bewilderment usually reserved for people speaking foreign languages.

"I like you." Craig repeated, firmly. Kyle pulled his arm close, the one Craig had been holding a minute earlier, as if it burned.

They probably would have stood there for a while longer, for quite a while longer, but whatever fates there were had decided that things weren't fucked up enough yet.

Their little stare-fest was interrupted by a sound, something somewhere between a squeak and a groan.

Craig didn't want to turn. Didn't. He knew what he'd see.

But he turned anyway.

Kenny stood a few feet away from them, having turned off of Main St – that was _Main St_, why hadn't he noticed? – with the intention of getting home. His soccer cleats were tossed over one shoulder by the shoelaces, and his orange parka was open at the front, revealing a green and white soccer jersey shirt.

He was staring at Craig, blue eyes darkened and burning. Craig didn't know what was worse; the fact that that glare was directed at him, or the fact that that look of total and utter betrayal became even darker when the blond turned his gaze on Kyle. Though his mouth was closed, his jaw moved, clenched and unclenched. Having nailed both of them with his look, he pushed past between them, head down and walking fast. Craig looked after him, feeling utterly helpless, looked at Kyle to see the redhead with a similar expression. Kyle gave him a quick, uncertain look, then hurried wordlessly after Kenny.

Craig found himself alone, fully and totally alone, really, and free to do whatever he wanted, whether that was go home or throw himself in front of a speeding vehicle.

Some would argue whether there was any difference.

He could still see them, their forms growing smaller in the distance. Kyle still hadn't caught up with Kenny, it seemed. Or maybe he was just giving him some distance.

And Craig still couldn't decide. The afternoon with Kenny had been… well, more than he'd expected. He'd never been quite as oblivious to the blonde's advances as Clyde might have thought, he'd just been… scared, he could admit it. Scared, because his attention wasn't the only one Craig was noticing, and not the only one Craig wanted to respond to. But he'd thought he knew what Kenny could be capable of, thought he knew what to expect when hooking up with him. But the Kenny he'd experienced the day before just wasn't that Kenny, wasn't the one everyone talked about or heard about.

And he hadn't wanted to think about that today, hadn't wanted to think about it at all today, but now he was. He groaned inwardly, putting a hand to his head as he turned and started down the street.

That was just Kenny, _just_ Kenny. And Kyle? God, Kyle. Kyle was a geek, a total nerd. He aced his classes and wore thick rimmed emo glasses even though he wasn't emo. He was so insanely totally not Craig's type but Craig liked him anyway, liked the way he moved, the way he talked during presentations to the class, as if he was some bigwig exec and this was the most important speech he would be giving in his career.

Sure there were things about both of them he rather didn't like, but right now he couldn't think of any.

All he could think of right then was just how amazingly fucked up things had gotten.


	5. This is the Thing This

Disclaimer: South Park and all characters in it are copyright Matt Stone and Trey Parker, not me.

A/N:

OH HEY PANDEMIC I can't wait for next weeks episode it should be a riot! CRAIG I love you. You crazy kid. You're awesome.

Anyways, next chapter of ANLS. I know, you all just can't wait for it.

SO GO FOR IT!

**THANK YOU REVIEWERS!**

Unfortunately, I'm not going to list you all, but know that all your reviews were highly appreciated!  
NEXT TIME POKE ME WITH PITCHFORKS AND I"LL GET THE NEXT CHAP OUT SOONER!

* * *

Title: A Neapolitan Love Story

Author: Zoshi the Confused  
Rating: Ranging, mostly PG-PG13

Category: South Park

Genre: General

May contain: Shounen-Ai/Boy Love, Violence, Adult Situations, Swearing

* * *

"Mom?" Craig dug through the freezer, shoving aside a box of fish sticks. "MOM?"

"Yes, Craig?" Her voice sighed from behind the open freezer door, "Can you please close the door to the freezer? I just got back with the groceries…"

"Did you get it?" Craig slammed the freezer door shut and faced her as she set a few plastic bags onto the kitchen table.

"Get what, Craig? I told you to make a list if you want something-" She was cut off as the rest of the bags were pulled from her hands.

"Yeah yeah," Craig muttered, searching through the bags. "Carrots –why do we need carrots? – mayo, cheese, more cheese…"

"Craig, what are you looking for?" His mother attempted to catch the items he was tossing aside on the table. "Craig! You're making a mess, would you just tell me what you're looking for?"  
"Grapes, I hate grapes," He pushed those aside as well, tossing the empty bag onto the floor, and pulled over the next one. "Yes! Allright, I'll be back later."

"What, Craig, where are you going?" His mother slipped on one of the bags he'd tossed aside, catching herself against one of the kitchen chairs. "Craig!"

Craig grabbed his hat from by the kitchen door, checked the bag he was holding again, and pulled open the door.

"Woah, did Craig help unpack again?"

He turned back around to send a glare at his sister, and he might have flipped her off, maybe, because he saw her roll her eyes. Maybe. He was out the door right after; he'd help put away the shopping next time.

Now, just where to look? He fixed his hold on the bag again; goddammit, ocd much? He grimaced, heading on down the street. He'd try the park; it was a stupid place, but hey, maybe. Maybe. If not there he'd try Stark's… or the strip mall at the other end of town… or… fuck, he'd just try everywhere.

His first idea turned out to be right. He stayed stuck to the side of a large tree for a good ten minutes trying to figure out just how he was going to start this. That should have been one of the things he'd thought of while thinking up this whole plan. He did, after all, take a week to get put this all together. Okay, so for most of the week he was agonizing on the fact that he was, actually, going to go out and say it, for once. Say _it_, which wasn't supposed to be said. Ever. Or rather, not say it, if he could avoid it. But imply it. Somehow. So, after the agonizing and after the planning what to say he didn't find the time to plan how he was going to start.

Which was stupid, because here he was, in the park, with both Kyle and Kenny sitting at a park table not fifteen feet away from him (what are the odds he'd find both of them at once? _Both_? As if the universe were aligning itself to his plan?) and no idea how to start it.

He turned away from the tree finally, walked over to a nearby garbage can and pulled the box out of the bag. Bag goes in the can. Box stays in hand. Yes. Now was the time. From what he could see there were no people hovering around anywhere nearby, which was good.

Taking a deep breath, he turned around and headed towards the table. He didn't stop at the tree he'd been, not hiding behind, no, just, the tree he'd paused at; didn't stop at the bushes that decided to be growing right in front of him, no, he might just have walked right through them, he couldn't be sure, they weren't exactly the things he was focused on at the moment. God, his fingers were getting cold.

The two K's (hah, wasn't K a street name for some drug or something?) seemed to be in a deep discussion. A serious one, from the looks on their faces, and deep enough that they didn't notice Craig, who had just realized he had indeed walked through the bushes instead of around, coming towards them with all the subtlety of a bull in a china shop.

Instead of interrupting their conversation with words, which he didn't believe he could do without sounding like an ass, he decided to instead put the box, which had in the meantime reduced his fingers to icicles, on the table and wait until they noticed him. His fingers, most likely having decided that they would no longer work for an owner who didn't care enough for them to keep them from being frozen, did not cooperate, and instead of setting down the box he ended up dropping it onto the table from a few inches above. The thump alerted both K's to the box's presence, and after looking at it in silence for a second they looked up at Craig, who, having been totally unprepared for the treachery of frozen fingers, was glaring down at his hands and, he admitted it, wondering just how to go about flipping off all of his fingers.

"Um, Craig?" Kyle was the first one to speak, so Craig looked at him first. Then over at Kenny. Both of them looked confused, and were dividing their attention between looking at him, looking at each other, and looking at the item on the table.

"See." Craig said, and they both looked at him. "Okay. You two are pissed at me."

"No shit." Kenny brought his feet up onto the seat and rested his arms on his knees. "Figure that one out yourself, Sherlock?"

"Thing is. Allright. This is the thing." Craig started, or tried to start. Kenny was staring disinterestedly off into the distance somewhere just to the right of his shoulder. Kyle had a Look-of-Utter-Patience on his face. Both were throwing him off a little bit, but that was okay. He had this planned, and the plan was in action. "This here is the thing."

"That there, Craig, is a pint of ice cream." Kyle said dryly. Craig shook his head firmly, and Kyle raised an eyebrow. Kenny continued to stare off somewhere, every now and then his gaze dropping for half a second to the box on the table.

"I mean, it is. But it's not." Craig tried to explain. He put his hands on the table top and looked at the ice cream. "That, that is a pint of Neapolitan ice cream. Which is ice cream, usually, but it isn't here. For now, at least."

He paused, but neither K seemed to be about to say anything, so he continued.

"See, it's like this. There's chocolate ice cream? Right? And there's vanilla. And there's strawberry, okay? There's three flavors, in one ice cream. All in a box." So, all of that had sounded better in his head. It was also put together differently, which might be why it sounded better.

The K's were staring at him as if he were talking about space aliens in clown suits working at the rodeo.

"And, see, by themselves, they're all right. They're good. But together, they're fucking awesome. All together." Craig… was not making sense. At least, it didn't sound like he was. What the hell was he thinking?

"Are you… comparing us… to ice cream?" Kyle frowned, staring straight at him. Kenny was frowning as well, but he was staring at the box of ice cream instead.

"As a metaphor." Craig explained with hopes that it would sound less… stupid. That was stupid. Fuck. And it sounded so good in his head.

"As a metaphor." Kyle repeated, sounding unimpressed. "As a metaphor, you're comparing us to ice cream."

"So, what," Kenny cut in, still staring at the box. "What, I'm, like, vanilla? Is that it?"

He looked at Craig, then at Kyle, then at the box again.

"I'm the boring flavor?" The blonde kept frowning.

"Vanilla's not boring," Craig assured him.

"Bullshit, vanilla's the worst flavor ever. No one likes vanilla," Kenny shot back, glaring at him.

"That's not important here, Kenny. The important thing is, we're being compared to _ice cream_," Kyle said, giving the other K a stern look.

"Yeah, and I'm being compared to some bland flavored, boring ass ice cream," Kenny gave him just as stern a look back.

"Hey, no, listen to me," Craig tried to cut in, but Kyle raised his hands.

"Kenny, its _ice cream_—"

"And you have no problem because you – look at you, you're a fucking red head, so you're strawberry, so that's not a problem. You're a fun flavor. I'm… I'm like the backup flavor to every other flavor." Kenny glared at Kyle. Kyle sighed loudly and slammed his hands onto the table top.

"That's not the point I was getting at, Kenny," He spoke through gritted teeth, focusing on some random swirl in the wood of the table. "I don't care if I'm strawberry or chocolate or—"

"You can't be chocolate, that's Craig," Kenny cut in, pointing at him. "See, he's got the dark hair—"

"Dammit Kenny! Just shut up!" Kyle growled, glaring at the blond. For a moment it looked like Kenny was going to talk back, but instead he retreated, draping his arms across his knees again and glaring at the redhead.

"Craig, what the hell are you trying to say?" Kyle spat, looking at him. Craig didn't like being looked at like that; that tickling in the back of his head started, that twinge that liked to travel down his neck and over his shoulders and into his arms and down to his hands and fingers before he had time to react.

Instead, he grabbed the pint of ice cream, picked it up as if to showcase it, and tried to explain, without explaining, again.

"Together. They're awesome." Oh yeah, that was… great. Kyle looked like he was ready to bust a fuse, and Kenny, still staring off somewhere, was looking confused again.

"What, I mean… what the hell are you—" Kyle started, but Kenny, with his confused look turning into a slightly…taken-aback thoughtful one, cut him off.

"You mean… us three… together?" The blond turned to look at Craig.

"What?" Kyle turned to him, then looked back at Craig. "What?"

"Dude, that's… shit, things don't work like that…" Kenny continued, "I mean, even I know that."

"Wait, wait…" Kyle wasn't really looking at anything, "Wait. At the same time?"

Craig was wishing he'd seriously reconsidered going out and doing this.

"Forget it," He said, and clutched the box closer. It was getting warm; he could feel the ice cream inside getting slightly mushy at the edges.

"Craig…"

That was Kenny, but he'd already turned around and started heading away.

"Craig! Dammit…."

That was Kyle, but from what he could tell, no one was making any moves to keep him there, so he didn't stay.

Passing the tree he had hidden behind, and he really should admit to himself he'd hidden behind it, he realized that, once again, he'd walked through the bushes instead of around them. He regretted tossing the plastic bag into the garbage can, but not enough to dig around in it to get it back.

Shit. So he thought he'd be able to explain. Or something. Things had gone better in his head, from what he remembered. Things had gone a lot better.  
Maybe he should've used the word "analogy" instead. Would that have made a difference?

And what the hell was that "all in a box" add-on? Did he want them all in a box together? Dammit. Dammit.

He kicked at a nearby tree and headed on down the park path. At least he'd be back home for dinner this time, that should make mom happy. The path wasn't that long back to the main roads, but it curved a few times, and with all the damn trees growing all over the place, it was hard to see what was ahead.

"Ah'm telling you, Token, it's true…" A familiar voice, not exactly one Craig liked, came from somewhere ahead of him.

"Bullshit, I'm not falling for your stupid talk again." Ah, Token. Voice of reason, at least in certain situations.

"Ah saw them with mah Own. Two. Ahyes."

Craig walked around the corner in time to see Cartman point at his own face. Fuck. Lardass was at it again.

"See who?" Craig muttered, interested but uninterested at the same time. He looked at Token.

"Cartman claims he saw--" Token started, but the larger boy cut him off.

"Ah don't _claim_, Token. Ah _know_ what Ah saw…" Cartman said, putting his hands on their shoulders. "And Ah know they're both fags now. Totalleh."

"Who's a fag?" Craig grimaced, more from the fact that fatass actually had his hand on his shoulder than from what he was saying. Token rolled his eyes and sighed loudly.

"Kahl and Kenneh," Cartman said in a conspiratorial whisper. "They're total queer-ohs."

A shiver ran up Craig's spine, but he shrugged it off, along with Cartman's hand.

"No proof," Token retorted in a slight sing-song voice.

"Fuck proof, Ah know what Ah saw," Cartman glared at Token a moment, then turned to Craig, his voice dropping. "Ah saw 'em sucking face behind the gym this week."

That twitch, that tingle at the back of his head again, but Craig forced himself to ignore it and act as unimpressed as Token was.

"Token's right, no proof, no truth," Craig shrugged as Cartman glared at him. "We're not falling for your shit again."

"It's not shit, dammit! I'm seriousleh, you guys!" Cartman exclaimed. "It wasn't like a ooops-mah-bad-I'm-high sorta thing either, this was the real deal!"

"And you stayed around long enough to see, right?" Token crossed his arms.

"Duh. You need details if you're going to get this shit out to people," Cartman shot him a disbelieving look. "Gahd, you're not _that_ stupid, are you?"

The box in Craig's hands seemed to have gotten a little… skinnier. And his fingers felt sticky. Without looking at it, he shoved the pint in Cartman's general direction, not caring whether he'd take it or whether he'd let it drop to the floor. The tickling in the back of his head had been replaced by an indecisive churning in his stomach.

"What the fuck? Ice cream!" Cartman grabbed the box happily. "Fuck, this is mahn now!"

"Where's Clyde?" Craig turned to Token, ignoring the fatass's exclamations. The dark boy was giving him a strange look, but shrugged and replied.

"Somewhere around the mall, I think. He said he was hunting for some nice, young does," Token rolled his eyes, "His words, not mine."

Craig nodded, wiping his hands off on his pants.

"Later," He tossed over his shoulder as he walked on down the path. Maybe if he could talk a while with Clyde….

* * *

Clyde sat down next to him on the ridge. The sun was setting but it was so cloudy that it didn't matter much.

It looked like he hadn't made it back home for dinner tonight, after all.

"Token says you gave Cartman your ice cream," Clyde said, not looking at him. Craig didn't look at him either, but out. And over. The ridge was a bit higher than the rest of the area; you could see past most of the houses of South Park up here.

"I don't like ice cream," Craig replied. Drawing his knees up to his chest he rested his chin on them.

They sat there in silence for a while, the clouded sky gradually growing darker above them.

"I thought I'd figured out… somehow, something." Craig said finally. He fiddled with the grass around his feet for a bit. "You know, like, how to explain it."

Clyde nodded, continued looking out over the town. Silence again, and Craig lay back against the ground, stared along the ground above his head back to a small tree that grew just a few feet away from the edge of the forest.

"It sounded better in my head," He said, heard Clyde laugh softly.

"Most things do…" Came the reply, and not long after, "Sound better in the head, you know, anyone's head… not just yours…"

"Yeah." Craig focused on the little plaque nailed to the side of the tree. The only thing in Shop Class that had ever held any sort of meaning.

"Token wanted us over for games tonight," Clyde said, and Craig could feel him turn slightly in his direction. "You coming?"

"Haven't been home yet…" Craig replied, pulling himself back up into a sitting position. The ground was cold beneath him.

"Since when?" Clyde asked, looking at him.

"Since forever," Craig said, looked at him. "I'll catch you guys tomorrow."

"All right," Clyde shrugged, looking thoughtful. Craig clapped him on the shoulder as he stood up, turned and walked away past the little tree with its plaque and into the forest. The guys wouldn't feel too bad if he missed game night, just once. At least, just once this month. He wanted to do something tonight, something else. He trudged down the path from the ridge to the edge of the town. If he headed down Forest Lane he could get to Main and stop at the store.

* * *

Craig sat on the edge of the bathtub, eyeing the box in his hands warily. He wanted to, he really did. He really really did. At least, he thought he did. He glanced around the room; he had everything ready.

The door to the bathroom creaked open; he hadn't locked it because he wasn't exactly looking for privacy. Still, he sent a half-glare at whoever it was who opened it.

"Hey Craig," His sister said, half hidden behind the door-jamb.

"Yeah?" He asked, frowning. She almost looked as if she was being… shy, or something.

"Whaddya doing?" She asked, stepping around the half-open door and into the bathroom. He shrugged, continuing to look at her. She crossed her arms, uncrossed them, crossed them again, only the other way around than before. Her eyes wandered around the room, past the mirrors and the shower curtain to him and then around again. She sat down on the toilet seat and looked at the floor for a moment, fingers fiddling with the edges of her sleeves.

"So, like… how're you doing?" She asked finally, looking at him.

"All right," Craig answered, shifting the box in his hands. It was his turn to look down at the floor.

"You… you know, if you get better, that'll be good. It'll be good, you know?" She said, but he wasn't looking at her, because her voice was almost pleading and he didn't want to see her when she was talking like that. "I mean, you'll be better, and then… then maybe, you know… other things can be better too…"

She gave a half-sniffle, half-chuckle, then a short laugh that didn't sound like a laugh. Craig continued staring at the floor but he could hear her shift on the seat, hear her shoes squeak against the tiles.

"I mean, I mean, that's not… that's not why, I don't want to sound like that's why I want you to get better, you know, I know I haven't been… I haven't been a good sister this while, you know, and I should've been," She paused, "I should've been, I don't want you to think… I want you better for you, Craig, I do… but if other things, you know, if they can get better because you're better… then I can… I can hope for that too, right? I…"

"I know," He answered, looking up finally to look at her. She had her arms wrapped around herself; she looked lost. His sister didn't cry, but he thought she might start if he let her go on like that. "It's okay. It's all right."

She nodded, wiped her nose with her sleeve. Tried to smile.

"D'you… d'you think it's working? That stuff they gave you?" She said from behind her sleeved hand, as if she didn't want the words fully formed out in the air between them.

"It's only been a week," Craig shrugged, rolling the box in his hands. She nodded again, tried to smile and it worked this time.

"I'll help Craig, really," She got up from her seat, her arms unwrapping themselves. Craig looked up at her, and for a moment she just stood there, for a moment that space between them wasn't just physical. For a moment.

Then she took a step, leaned over a bit, wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him, tight, as if she was scared he was going to disappear in a second. He could feel her warmth around him, not just the touch but something else too. Acting on instinct, maybe, he loosed one arm and placed it around her, nowhere near as tight as she was holding on to him but somehow, just like that, he felt connected. This was his sister. Sister. They used to hang out in pillow forts in the living room together, and build birdhouses out of sticks and catch minnows on the banks of Stark's Pond with macaroni sieves when they were little. And he hadn't felt this close to her for years now.

He pulled his arm away first, more from shock at how much a touch can change things than anything else. She held on a little longer before pulling away, putting a sleeved hand up to her face for a moment after. He looked down at the box in his hands for while, uncomfortable suddenly because he knew that there were tears in her eyes, now, and there was something happening with him too and he didn't want to acknowledge it.

"But, come on bro, what do you got there?" She said after a long moment, and he looked up to see her grinning at him, all traces of whatever there had been on her face before gone.

"I think I'm going to need your help," He said in answer, and held up the box for her to see. Her eyes widened at first, but then the smile returned to her face, larger than before.

"All right!" She said happily, grabbing the box from him. "Let's do this! It should be fun."

Craig shrugged, but he could agree. It should be fun.

* * *

ENDNOTES: There was a deliberate style change, do you know why? If you read it, you should be able to find out. :3


	6. Behind the gym you say

Disclaimer: South Park and all characters in it are copyright Matt Stone and Trey Parker, not me.

A/N:

*puts bandaids on*

SEE. It worked. :D I told you!

Seriously though, you guys have to enjoy this. Really. Otherwise I will cry. I'm not good at stuff like this, tho, so if anyone has any pointers, I'll be happy to take them.

ENJOY

PS: I put links to a few Neapolitan pics I've done on my profile, in case anyone wants to see them. :3

**THANK YOU REVIEWERS!**

There is an almost consistent 6 reviews per chapter, which makes me very happy. :3  
**Lar-Lar**

**Theartistformerlyknownas**

**Edly Ashward**

**Tollypop13**

**Shannello**

**Ms. Elbow**

I love you all, you know that?

***

Title: A Neapolitan Love Story

Author: Zoshi the Confused  
Rating: Ranging, mostly PG-PG13

Category: South Park

Genre: General

May contain: Shounen-Ai/Boy Love, Violence, Adult Situations, Swearing

***

Craig paced in front of the library stairs, shoulders hunched against the wind, glancing around every now and then as he turned. He'd told Clyde and Token to meet him here, and to bring Tweek and Jason with them if they could because he couldn't get a hold of them. Turning again he grimaced, kicking a small stone out of his way and pulling at his hat fitfully. A sigh; a glance around again. He sat on the steps and tried to wait patiently; he was early, after all, and they still had time to get there.

A sudden gust of wind tugged at his hat, and he grabbed at it quickly, pulling it back down onto his head. A few strands of hair swung down in front of his eyes, fluttering in the wind. Glaring at them as best he could, he tucked them securely back under his hat.

"Hey Craig," Clyde's voice came from somewhere to Craig's left. He stood up quickly, looking to see if it was only Clyde or if the rest of them were there, too.

"You're all here," Craig said, surprised they were all there, together, at the same time. Tweek twitched slightly, coffee cup shaking in his hands.

"You –ngh- said you wanted us to meet you," He said, blinking and glancing over at Token.

"Why the library?" Jason asked, looking over at the large building warily. Craig looked at him, looked at the library, looked away, and shoved his hands into his pants pockets.

"It's… closer," He replied, starting to look towards the group of boys but stopping just short of looking at them. A familiar pair of shoes came closer in his line of vision, and he found himself tensing slightly. Dammit, he wasn't nervous. He wasn't.

"Craig, dude, you all right?" Clyde sounded slightly worried, and Craig shook his head, looking up but somewhere over their heads.

"I'm fine, I just, you know, I'm always disappearing on you guys, I just… just wanted to let you guys know where I go," Craig looked away again, across the street at a squirrel on the candy shop's window. Hey there squirrel.

Clyde's face appeared in his vision, and he frowned at the brown-haired boy, who frowned at him in return. Craig turned back to the guys and found them looking at him, puzzled. Except for Tweek, who was twitching more than usual and started talking eighty-miles-per-hour as soon as he saw Craig looking at him.

"Oh god, this isn't going to be a –ngh- secret, is it? Gah! I can't keep secrets C-craig, you –ngh- you know that," The blond juggled the coffee cup in his severely jumping hands.

"Fuck, no, calm down Tweek," Craig glared at him, and the blonde squeaked, nearly dropping his cup. Craig sighed, more at himself, and shook his head. "No, just, come on. It doesn't matter. You guys should know, and if anyone else finds out, well, fuck them. I don't care. You guys should know… I mean, I shouldn't be keeping this a secret from you guys, I think. You're my friends, you know?"

That last sentence came out a bit unexpectedly for him, and Craig frowned slightly as he led the others down the street. A hand came down on his shoulder, and he turned, expecting Clyde.

Token looked at him, a curious expression on his face. He grinned slightly after a moment, squeezing Craig's shoulder slightly.

"Of course we're your friends," The taller boy said, and Craig looked away, gaze falling to the ground. Shit. So it wasn't just him who thought that last sentence sounded a little… desperate. Dammit. Embarrassment was an understatement at the moment, but he didn't move out from under Token's hand, instead looking back to find the rest of the guys following him. Clyde and Jason both gave him comfortable half-grins, and even Tweek seemed to have calmed down. Craig turned to look straight ahead of him, starting to feel a little bit overwhelmed. Dammit. He was feeling that a lot lately, and not in the way he usually felt it. This was just a bit different, this weird feeling like he wasn't able to catch his breath and like he couldn't see straight and like his throat was getting tight. In other words, feeling like a total pussy.

He cleared his throat, his hands fidgeting in his pockets, and sped up. Token's hand slipped from his shoulder, but he could hear the others following close behind.

"It's not far," He said, walking easily. He could hear Tweek's occasional grunts and squeaks above the sound of footsteps. No one said anything, and he was starting to feel just a bit nervous, but thankfully he was right. It wasn't that far. He stopped in front of the double doors in the front of the drab gray building. For a second he looked at them, then turned to face his friends. All four were looking at him expectantly.

"So. This is where I go on Saturdays." Craig motioned to the double doors with his shoulder. He couldn't keep his gaze on any single boy, his eyes kept shifting over each time he tried to meet their gaze. Clyde frowned, not at him, and more thoughtfully than anything else. Token, from what he could see, was looking at the words on the window next to the double doors, although why he was staring at such a short title for so long Craig didn't know. Jason crossed his arms, exchanging looks with Clyde.

"This –egh- this place?" Tweek shuddered, shaking the coffee cup sadly; it was empty. "My parents – ngh- brought me h-here before. But why are –erk- you going here?"

Although the blond was twitching, he managed to keep his gaze even, and Craig found himself looking back at him.

"You know, the problems. And shit. I guess," He shrugged, looking at the others but finding his gaze returning to the blonde's. "My parents thought I should, so…"

"Is it helping?" Token asked, taking a step closer to Craig.

"I guess," Craig shifted his gaze to him, then to Jason, finally ending on Clyde. "I mean, they don't talk to me, so they probably thought I should talk to someone else. Or something."

"You know…" Jason started, eyes focused on the double doors. He fell silent for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah, you know, sometimes you need it."

Craig looked around at them, puzzled; there was way too much acceptance going on here. Way too much.

"Shut the fuck up," He spat suddenly, glaring at them. "Just shut the fuck up. What the fucking hell is wrong with all of you? I just fucking tell you I got to a fucking head doctor and you're all acting like it's fucking normal."

Clyde stepped towards him, looking ready to say something, but Craig glared at him, flipping him off before he even knew his hands had gotten free of his pockets.

"Fuck off Clyde," He growled. He could feel himself shaking. Shit, he took everything that morning, didn't he? He did, and the night before. Fuck. Just nerves.

A sigh from his left brought him around to face that side, and he turned to see Tweek stepping past him and over to the garbage bin standing to one side of the double doors. The blonde twitched slightly as he tossed his cup away and turned to Craig, biting his lip.

"Craig, it's –ngh- it's just that it's sort of…" Tweek twitched slightly, not meeting his eyes. Craig looked at him for a while, then turned to look at the others. All of them were doing that thing where they looked at him without looking at him. Clyde met his look, shrugged a tiny bit.

"Shit. SHIT." Craig turned and walked off a few steps. He stopped, turned around to look back at them.

"Craig, dude, it's not like we were… expecting it," Clyde said, looking at the others. He looked at Craig, then walked over to him slowly.

"…was I really getting that bad?" Craig asked, his voice low. Clyde put his hands in his pockets.

"I don't think 'bad' is the word for it," The brunette said, giving him an easy grin.

"Yeah, bad is what you are on a normal day," Token added in, "And there's nothing wrong with that."

Clyde continued looking at Craig, his grin slipping slightly.

"How're you doing?" He asked, voice lowered slightly. Craig shrugged, still unsure just what to make of the situation. They weren't weirded out by anything. What the hell?

"I'm all right," Craig muttered, looking around at all of them. "Better than I was, I think. Am I better?"

"You're not, like, having panic attacks anymore," Jason said; Token nodded in agreement. Tweek leaned against the wall of the building, wrapping his arms around his chest.

"Yeah, those were –egh- were pretty scary, you know?" The blond looked at him, "Don't worry, you're not – ngh- losing your attitude. I don't think – think you are…"

"You guys are fucking losers, you know that?" Craig sighed, scuffing his shoe against the sidewalk and avoiding looking at them. Clyde laughed, reaching out to clap him on the shoulder.

"Yeah, well, and aren't you the lucky fucker, getting stuck with us?" The brunette gave him a friendly shove. "Do you have to go in today?"

"Nah," Craig shook his head, taking a deep breath. He felt lighter. "Come on, let's go hit the arcade or something."

"Hell yeah, I heard they fixed "Gauntlet Legends" finally," Jason said, grinning widely.

"Oh god no! Not –ngh- not that game," Tweek twitched, pushing off of the wall. "I'm horrible at it I'll make you all –ugh- lose I can't play at all…"

"There's only four players on it anyways…" Clyde said, and the blonde brightened.

"So that means I d-don't-"

"That means we can all just take turns, including you," Token laughed, putting a hand on Tweek's back and pushing him forward. The blond jumped slightly, wide-eyed.

"No, no no no, Craig! Craig –ngh- I can't play it right, tell them I can't –egh- play it," Tweek stumbled up next to him desperately. "I can't handle it they'll –erg- make me archer and I can't play support positions-"

"Don't worry about it," Craig said, reaching out to ruffle the blonde's hair. "You can just be in charge of cheering the rest of us on."

"R-really?" Tweek twitched again, looking back at Token. "Token's not –ngh- not going to let me off easy…"

"Awww, Tweek, c'mon, I was just kidding…" Token called to them, laughing slightly.

"Come on guys, are we going to the arcade or are we just going to stand here all day?" Jason asked, moving forward past the rest of them and turning around to walk backwards.

"We're coming," Craig answered, and they headed off towards the arcade. Fuck this was great. He almost felt, relaxed, or something. It felt like the old days. He watched as Token kept on teasing Tweek good-naturedly, then turned to ask Clyde something. It wasn't until he saw the almost-surprised grin on his best friends face that he realized he was grinning himself. He corrected that quickly with a hard glare at the brunette.

"What?" He growled, sticking his hands into his pockets. Clyde shook his head, laughing slightly.

"Nothing. Seriously though…" Clyde started, but cut himself off. His eyes seemed to focus somewhere around Craig's forehead, and his eyebrows furrowed. After a few steps he stopped, and Craig did as well.

"What're you looking at?" Craig asked, confused.

Then he remembered.

"Dude, your hair," Clyde reached out and grabbed his hat, but Craig managed to get a hand on it before the other boy could yank it off.

"What? No. I don't know. Come on, the arcade." Craig said, trying to back out of Clyde's hold, but the brown-haired boy wasn't letting go.

"No, no, Craig, let me see your hair," He grunted, trying to pull the hat off, but Craig just held on tighter, trying to drop into a crouch to help keep the hat on.

"I don't know – No – leggo Clyde," He twisted, but Clyde finally got a good hold on his hat, and with a triumphant "Ha!" pulled it off. Even as Craig flailed after it, trying to get it back as soon as he could, he could hear Tweek's distraught voice ring out behind him.

"Oh God Craig –ngh – your hair's mutating it's –nrk – it's mutating _blue_. Gah!"

********************

There was a concrete bench behind the gym. Huh. Would you look at that.

Craig sat down on the bench, finding it surprisingly not as uncomfortable as he thought it would be. He looked around; there were a few scrawny trees growing in back of the building, and off to the side was what looked like an old rickety tool shed. It was pretty out of the way, this place, too far away for even a random soccer ball or foot ball to find its way there. Almost totally isolated, even now during lunch.

Or rather, at the beginning of lunch. Craig checked his watch; he'd gotten out there early, although he didn't really know why. It wouldn't have matter when he'd gotten there, really. At least, he didn't think so. But he was there and now all he had to do was wait.

Clyde had suggested this; or rather, he'd suggested that Craig try again. He'd suggested it in the middle of beating Craig's ass at Mortal Kombat, which led to Craig losing so bad that he got bumped to the end of the playing line. He didn't even know Clyde knew about _it_, and it took a while before he remembered.

A night a few days after he'd started taking the first doses, the headache and nausea, running over to Clyde's house because he didn't want his parents to see how bad he felt and take him off of it because he really thought this stuff could help with his problems. He remembered spending the night cooped up in Clyde's bathroom, half-unconscious and talking and talking and it was a wonder he hadn't told Clyde about the therapy and meds then. No, instead he told him about the wicked love triangle he'd gotten himself into and the fact that he didn't want to get out of it as much as turn it into a wickedly-awesome love triangle.

They'd had a few talks about it after that night; apparently Clyde just thought he'd gotten a little too drunk that night and Craig didn't feel like correcting him. Clyde would most likely have the same reaction that his parents did after he spazzed and puked all over the coffee table on day three. His parents had come to understand that the side effects were temporary, and that the improvements were, indeed, happening. Craig didn't think Clyde would be so easy to convince, even if it would be the truth.

So there he was, behind the gym, on a Wednesday, because no one had showed up on Monday and Tuesday, but that didn't mean that his hopes had dropped. It just meant that they only showed up for certain reasons, like last Thursday, when Craig had come out of curiosity and seen it for himself. He wasn't ready to act then, though, but now? Now he was prepared. Clyde had told him it would be as long as he just was himself.

Hopefully.

"The thing is, I don't know if I can get both the physics paper and the chem project done for the same day…"

"Dude, chill, it's not like they're your final grades or anything, seriously…"

Craig looked towards the corner of the gym as the voices reached him. So. Today. All right then, he could do this. Taking a deep breath he forced himself to relax on the bench, slouching back against the gym wall a bit and looking out past the tool shed. He'd tactically placed himself in the middle of the bench; they'd be forced to choose who sat on what side. Ha.

"C-craig?" A surprised voice reached him a moment later. He turned his head just in time to see Kyle and Kenny take a half-step away from each other. Both were staring at him in surprise.

"Hey guys, come here often?" Craig asked, managing to give them a sort of half-grin. It felt good; he'd been doing it more often lately.

Kyle seemed a little flustered by his question. Kenny pulled the spare cigarette from behind his ear and put it between his lips, but didn't light it.

"Uh, you know, sometimes," Kyle shrugged, looked over at Kenny for confirmation.

"Yeah, for studying and shit," Kenny nodded, shifting slightly on his feet.

Craig gave them an amused look, then motioned at the bench.

"You guys can sit down, you know. I won't bite," He said. They both looked extremely self-conscious, but after a long moment of staring at both bench and Craig, Kyle walked over and sat down on his left. Kenny glanced out into the distance, then turned and walked over to sit on Craig's right. There was just enough room for the three of them on the bench, with barely any room behind them.

"So, what brings you back here?" Kenny asked, leaning back against the gym wall. His eyes flickered towards Craig for a moment before he looked back at the trees past the school fence.

"Just taking in the scenery," Craig answered. He was feeling a lot calmer than he had expected himself to. But then again, he'd thought about the situation as it was quite a lot. It didn't bother him at all. Or rather, it had bothered him when he'd heard it, but when he'd seen it, not so much.

"Huh," Kenny shifted slightly on the bench. Kyle fidgeted on Craig's other side, staring down at his hands.

"So… how are things with you?" Kyle asked, looking at Craig.

"All right, I guess," Craig answered, looking at the redhead. Kyle's eyes didn't leave his face for a long moment, but then he was looking down at his hands again. "You?"

Kyle shrugged in answer. Silence.

"Seriously Craig, why're you here?" Kenny asked, sitting up a bit and leaning with his elbows on his knees.

"Seriously?" Craig asked, and continued without waiting for an answer. "I was here last Thursday and I was kinda hoping for a repeat."

The cigarette fell from Kenny's lips, and although he fumbled with it for a few seconds it still ended up falling to the ground.

"Shit," The blonde cursed, picking it up quickly and blowing the dirt off of it.

On Craig's other side Kyle was so tense he almost seemed to have turned to stone.

"You know, just 'cause something happens doesn't mean, you know…" Kenny started, focusing a bit too much on cleaning off his cigarette. Craig nodded in understanding.

"Yeah, that's why I was here on Thursday, to make sure, you know, 'cause I was here last Monday too, but I was always getting here late, so I thought I'd be early today," He said, and finally felt Kyle move beside him. The redhead jumped off the bench as if it were on fire, started pacing in front of it.

"It was just a thing... thing. It wasn't… It's just that…" Kyle stopped, both talking and walking, and stared down at the ground. Hard.

Kenny was cleaning picking his cigarette off the ground again. He took his time cleaning it off and putting it safely back behind his ear, and Craig waited patiently for either Kyle to continue or Kenny to start talking. It soon became apparent that neither one knew what to say; Kyle went back to pacing, Kenny stared down at the ground, and Craig finally sighed and decided that he'd be the one to break the silence.

"You guys do know that it's totally all right?" Craig asked, looking from blonde to redhead and wishing he could look at both of them at the same time.

"What…" Kyle cleared his throat, coming to a stop again and finally facing him. "What do you mean?"  
"You don't know what I mean?" Craig asked, "Seriously?"

"No, no I don't." Kyle said, looking at him.

"I like you two, you do know that, right?" Craig asked. Okay, so that might have been a bit of a jackass comment to make. Kyle narrowed his eyes at him.

"Yes." The redhead said shortly after it became apparent that Craig was actually waiting for an answer.

"Then why should it bother me if you two like each other too?" Craig said, crossing his arms comfortably across his chest.

"It's not like… we _like_ each other," Kenny said looking over at Craig from out the corner of his eye. "It's just –"

"-that you two **like** each other, yeah." Craig finished for him. The blonde glared at him, and Kyle went back to pacing, a bit slower than before. "Seriously. it's not a problem."

"Craig." Kyle said, still pacing.

"Yes?" Craig answered, waiting. It seemed to be Kenny's turn to turn to stone on the bench; he couldn't even tell if the blonde was breathing.

"What you were explaining to us… You really feel like that?" The redhead stopped, turning to look at him. His eyes were serious.

"Yeah." Craig shrugged, "It's you two, or no one."

"Fuck. You make it sound so fucking simple." Kenny spat out finally, turning blazing blue eyes at him. "You make it sound fucking normal."

"It is," Craig said, then shrugged again. "To me."

"Shit," Kyle muttered, running his hand through his curly hair.

"You don't like the idea," Craig said to Kenny, not really phrasing it as a question. The blonde stared at him for a long moment, then turned to look at Kyle for a while.

"It's not that I don't like it," Kenny sighed, "It's just so… shit, it's so weird."

"It could work."

Craig looked back at Kyle to see the redheads cheeks tinting just slightly red. He looked at the two on the bench, biting his lip.

"It could work," Kyle repeated, then focused on Kenny, "I mean, if you'd wanna try, I think it could work."

"You really like him, don't you?" Kenny asked quietly, eyes on the redhead. Kyle's blush deepened, even as his eyes narrowed, and Craig sighed, unfolding his arms, but Kenny shook his head. "No, fuck, I don't mean it to sound… like I'm jealous… I mean, I was. Fuck it, I was, I'll admit it. But dammit Kyle, you're the one with the morals."

"But you're the one arguing against it," Kyle retorted. Kenny opened his mouth to speak, closed it. Opened it again.

"Yeah, but I didn't think you'd be thinking about it," The blonde said finally. Kyle stared at him for a moment, then took a sharp turn on his heel and started pacing again.

"Fuck. FUCK. Jesus Christ. It's the hormones." The redhead muttered, shaking his head. "Hormones."

"Thank god for hormones, then," Craig said, earning himself a snort of half-laughter from the blonde sitting next to him."So, is anyone really against it?"

There was silence for a few moments, then Kyle turned and walked back over to the bench. He looked at the other two for a moment, then sat back down next to Craig.

"I guess…" Kenny started, fiddling with a stray thread at the edge of his sleeve. "…not?"

"It could work." Kyle said again, voice still lowered, as if someone might overhear.

Craig took a moment to take it in. His ice cream talk didn't go over well. At all. Maybe it _was_ the "in a box" reference.

But now, when he just went and talked to them and didn't try to act special or anything, they were actually getting somewhere.

"See," and it was Kyle, again. The redhead turned on the bench so he could face the others. "See, it could go like this: Craig and Kenny, right, is what people are going to be hearing about."

Kenny looked surprised at that development, looked at Craig before looking back at Kyle.

"What?" The blond frowned, "Why-"

"Shh, listen, all right? I mean, we don't really want my parents to find out, do we?" Kyle asked, his voice even lower than before. Kenny shuddered. Craig felt the blood drain from his face; a pissed of Kyle-Mom was not something he wanted to deal with.

"Right, so you, Craig, and you, Kenny, will be 'official'," Kyle said, even adding in the appropriate hand motions, "And me and Craig can find stuff to do in secret, like, 'studying for tests', or…"

"Or meeting up here during lunch break or study hall," Kenny added in. Craig blinked; they both sounded pretty… enthusiastic about things.

"Yeah, and if the two of you are feeling horny, and I'm not around, then you always have each other to fall back on," Craig nodded, giving both of them a half-grin. "Sounds good to me."

"Shut up," Kenny smacked him on the shoulder. Hard. Kyle sighed.

"But seriously…" The redhead looked at the two of them.

"Seriously… you know what the fuck you're doing, Kyle? Right?" Kenny asked, eyeing the redhead critically. Kyle looked at Craig for a long moment; he could practically see the redhead's brain working away.

Kyle nodded.

"I'm agreeing to get into a secret-polyamorous relationship with two guys I go to school with, a relationship which, if my parents found about it, could get me put into solitary confinement in my own home for the rest of my life, yes. I know." He sighed, and looked at Craig. And then Kenny looked at Craig.

"What?" Craig looked at them, "What, are you waiting for me to say something? Fuck, isn't this what I've been talking about all along?"

"I can't believe this is actually happening," Kenny shook his head, pulling the cigarette out from behind his ear. "Shit."

"You only live once," Came Kyle's response, and both Craig and Kenny gave him a surprised look. "And fuck, you only get to really blame this on hormones when you're in high school, right?"

"Okay, say something about studying or homework, fast, or I'm going to start thinking you're fucking MPD," Craig said. Kenny snickered beside him, and Kyle glared at both of them.

"Shut up. That's not all I do." Kyle growled. "It's just all that I _can_ do because my parents are assholes and don't let me do anything else."

"Because they're worried you might get molested if you do," Kenny snickered some more, trying to light his cigarette with a nearly-empty lighter.

"Well, they don't have to worry about you coming to study at my house then," Craig said, and Kyle gave him an amused look.

"And why's that?" The redhead asked, shifting so he could lean back a little against the wall of the gym.

"Easy, it's not molestation if you like it," Craig answered, keeping a straight face. Kenny let out a sharp laugh.

"Oh fuck, that's golden," The blonde shook his head, standing up. He was still laughing as he turned to face them. "Fuck, I'll remember that."

"You going somewhere?" Craig asked, looking up at him quizzically.

"Considering that I'm claiming you for myself for after school today," Kenny said, smirking, "I figured you two might want some 'alone time' before lunch ends. Just to keep things fair and all…"

With that smirk stuck on his face and a slight nod, the blonde strolled off around the corner of the building.

Well. Well then.

Craig looked at Kyle. Kyle looked at him, or was looking at him, until he looked at Kyle, at which point Kyle decided looking at the trees growing by the tool shed would be better. That didn't keep Craig from looking at him.

He didn't know exactly just how what had happened, happened, but he wasn't complaining, at all.

"So, learn anything from Kenny?" Craig said finally. Fuck, he was going to be saying things that he probably hadn't ever even considered he'd be saying, but what the hell.

"W-what?" Kyle turned shocked eyes on him. Caught off guard? Mmmyep.

"'cause, you know, I could use a few pointers…" Smooth, Craig. Real smooth.

Except.

It worked.

Kyle's lips curved into a slight grin, and his eyes lit up in a way that Craig couldn't remember them lighting up like before.

"I mean, I guess… only a few…." The redhead said, his eyes on Craigs. Damn, those eyes. "How much time 'till lunch ends?"

Craig spared a quick glance at his watch, "Fifteen minutes."

"Shit," Kyle muttered, turning his body towards Craig's. "All right."

"All right?" Craig grinned slightly; Kyle seemed totally ready to get into it, and yet…

Ah, what the hell, he'd start this time.

Leaning over he planted his lips on Kyle's; no girly just-barely-there-touches, fuck that shit. Kyle, true to appearances, was more than ready. He pushed back into Craig, and had his arm around the other's neck before Craig could move. Nice. Very nice. And fuck, the guy could kiss. Craig wrapped one arm around the redhead's waist, pulling him closer, felt another hand traveling over his lower back, shivers running up his spine. They were getting tangled in each other, and damn but it was fucking sweet.

Kyle took Craig's request to heart; not long after getting tangling his fingers in the hair Craig was hiding beneath his hat, the redhead ran the tip of his tongue across Craig's lips, plunged it into his mouth the second they parted. Shit. SHIT. Craig tried to keep up, but damn, Kyle could take initiative. Whatever. So could he. So Craig's free hand found its way under both the Kyle's jacket and shirt, not entirely on purpose on that second article but awesome all the same, and he eagerly sent his fingers traveling over the redhead's skin.

That trick earned him a slight gasp, a parting, and fuck, fuck, no no, he pulled his hand away slightly, did he push it too far? He opened his eyes, breathing hard, to find Kyle's half-lidded eyes staring into his, darkened and deep. He didn't move, he didn't know if he should, but the redhead did it for him, pressed forward into his hand and letting out a sigh that made his heart skip a beat. Hearing the unspoken demand, Craig complied happily, stroking against Kyle's body, hot under the layers of clothes, and adding his other hand in from the back, letting his fingers tickle over the other's spine. Kyle practically collapsed on him, pulling so close Craig barely had room to move his arms, forehead to forehead.

"Fuck, Craig…" Kyle barely managed to finish half-moaning his name before pulling him into another kiss that rocketed him so far away he didn't come back down until the school bell rang out.

The redhead had managed to get Craig's hat off in the meantime, and one of his hands had also made its way past the layers of Craig's clothes and was resting just above the line of his jeans over his hip. Craig moved slightly, just a little, feeling again how Kyle's fingers touched his skin. The redhead grinned, moving his hand himself, and the feeling intensified, and Craig found himself back in the position he was before the bell rang; that is, lips to Kyle's neck.

And then he realized what he'd been doing.

Shit.

"We should probably go," Kyle muttered, not sounding entirely fond of the idea.

"Kyle," Craig sighed, trying to get himself to let go of the redhead. Kyle's jacket was all crooked, and Craig wasn't sure when he'd manage to unzip it that far. "D'you have a scarf? Or something?"

"What? Why?" Kyle looked at him through a slight daze. Realization hit a moment later, and the redhead paled. "Fuck. No, did you? Fuck."

"Heat of the moment, and all that crap," Craig said, leaning back. He poked at the reddening spot on Kyle's neck just above his shirt's neckline. "It looks good on you."

"Shut up," Kyle grimaced. "Dammit… I think I do have a scarf."

"Just cough a lot. Pretend you caught something…" Craig supplied, finally slipping his other hand all the way out from under Kyle's shirt.

"Yeah, yeah," Kyle shook his head, then paused, looked at Craig. "What the fuck?"

"What?" Craig asked, frowning.

"Your hair," Kyle looked totally lost.

Ohhh….

"Yeah, it's cool, huh?" Craig asked, almost hopefully, and tried a grin. Tried.

"It's blue." Kyle said evenly, still staring at it.

"Yeah… you don't like it?" Craig asked, wincing slightly. Fuck.

Kyle met his eyes, his lips relaxing into a lazy curve.

"I like it," He replied.

"…you think Kenny'll like it?" Craig asked after a moment. Kyle laughed, finally getting around to fixing his shirt and jacket.

"I think Kenny will be _entranced_ by it." The redhead said, grinning. Craig frowned at him.

"Ooooo using big words now," He said, tugging his own jacket back into place.

"I have to get my brain working again somehow…" Kyle sighed, standing up and zipping his jacket up all the way. He'd be safe until he got to his locker, hopefully. He rubbed his neck. "This is going to be a bitch…"

Craig stayed sitting, staring up at him. This was good, right? They were getting somewhere. Somewhere good. Right?

"Kyle?"

"Yeah?" He looked down at the still sitting boy, puzzled.

"This is going to work out, right?" Craig asked. Say yes. Fuck, but he needed reinforcement.

Make me believe it.

"It's going to work Craig," Kyle said softly, smiling at him softly. "It's going to work, because we want it to."

It's going to work.


	7. Rodents

Disclaimer: South Park and all characters in it are copyright Matt Stone and Trey Parker, not me.

A/N:

Hey there everybody, long time no see, eh?

Lot's has happened, but most important of which was that my ferret, Pike, had to be hospitalized, needed surgery, and has been on meds and a special diet since the beginning of January. I've been doing art commissions to help pay for his vet bills, since I didn't have enough, but things have been moving forward. Thankfully, I've found some amazing people who have been very supportive. Yay!

I haven't been writing much at all. Just before V-Day I wrote the next part for The K-Squared 100 (and seriously, if I hadn't pretty much blackmailed myself into doing it, I don't think I'd have a point, no one reviews for that anymore D: )

Writing for ANLS has been very difficult. Things are getting to a certain point of the story, and it's making things a little harder to write. Unfortunately, this means this chapter is a little shorter. However, next chapter will probably be longer due to this.

Thank you reviewers! There are plenty of you, more than I expected for such a Crack pairing, and especially for one written by me (my stories aren't exactly the kind of boylove most people enjoy reading) so I'm very honored that you like it so much. :3 Much love to you all!

* * *

Title: A Neapolitan Love Story

Author: Zoshi the Confused  
Rating: Ranging, mostly PG-PG13

Category: South Park

Genre: General

May contain: Shounen-Ai/Boy Love, Violence, Adult Situations, Swearing

* * *

The room was dark, with a hint of hazy red. Craig blinked, trying to remember where he was. A few blue strands of hair had fallen over his eyes, and he puffed at them. They lifted up only to fall right back down in the same place. Dammit. Shifting slightly, he found his hand was caught up under something, something warm, something that was weighing him down. He looked down to see half-lidded blue eyes looking back at him.

"Hey," Kenny said, grinning softly.

Right, Kenny's house. He'd come over after school.

"I fell asleep?" Craig asked, needlessly. The blonde chuckled, wrapping his arms just a bit tighter around Craigs waist. "What time is it?"

"Dunno," Kenny replied with a shrug. He looked content as a cat, chin resting on Craig's chest, eyes still looking at him in that deep, deep way. Craig grinned, running fingers through the blonde's tousled hair. This felt good; he felt relaxed. Maybe the meds were finally doing their job. Or maybe the harmony of the past few weeks was finally getting to him.

"It looks late," Craig sighed, turning his head to look towards the window. There were clouds, but what he could see of the sky was dark, and streaked with red. Sunset. He was probably supposed to be home by now. "Well, not late-late…"

"I know…" Kenny groaned, pressing his face into Craig's chest. Slight shivers ran up his spine, and he sighed, looking back at the blonde. "And you have to go…"

"Yeah…" Craig didn't want to move, at all. Kenny looked at him, grinning slightly, and pushing himself forward he pressed his lips to Craig's. It was a slow, lingering kiss, and it send sparks of emotion shooting deep down inside of him. Craig wrapped his arms around the other boy, looking up into his face once their kiss ended. A relationship involving Kenny was much different than what he had imagined it to be. The blonde was loose, he was everywhere, with everyone. He'd never spent more than a day and a night with any one person, ever, and yet here he was, giving him smoky looks and some of the calmest, serene, best moments of his life.

All without going past second base.

Put in an actual relationship, Kenny turned out to be as timid as a grade-schooler, and while he talked big around Kyle, it was obvious to Craig that he was more than just a bit shy whenever they came close to anything more intimate than kissing and touching. Which is why, although Craig has spent the better part of the evening in the blonde's bedroom, they still had all their clothes on, and neither one of Kenny's parent's had yelled at them to keep it down.

It was interesting; Craig wondered if Kenny had ever tried this hard with anyone else.

"Your roots are starting to show," Kenny said, brushing the hair out of Craig's eyes.

"Yeah, and it's starting to get too long…" He shifted under the blonde's weight, "I need to get it cut."

"It's not that bad…" Kenny grinned, "Let it go a little longer…"

Craig grinned back; sure, why not. It wasn't all that long anyways.

A buzzing from the floor interrupted the calm, and Craig groaned. Not his parents, please not his parents. Kenny slid off of him as he twisted towards the sound, but it ended abruptly just as he was reaching towards his cell on the floor. A second later the phone buzzed with a slightly different sound. Picking it up, he saw the screen light up with a text message notification.

"Who is it?" Kenny asked, looking around his shoulder. Craig read the note quickly, grumbling under his breath.

"Clyde. My mom's calling people to find out where I am," He sighed angrily, shoving the cell in his pocket. "Geez, it's not even that late, she could at least wait until it's dark before she starts panicking."

Kenny rolled his eyes, and Craig flipped him off as he stumbled off of the bed. Apparently, his legs had not woken up yet.

"If I get in trouble it's your fault," He said, trying to fix his hair a bit as he looked around for his hat.

"My fault?" Kenny asked, and Craig turned around to see him stretched out on the bed, a smirk on his face.

"Yes, your fault." Craig grinned, "For being so fucking hard to leave."

The blonde laughed, eyes glittering, and reached behind him to pull out Craig's beat up blue hat out from underneath the pillow.

"Looking for this?" He held the hat up and waved it around. Craig rolled his eyes, grabbing the hat out of his hand and putting it on.

"Thanks," He leaned down to give the blonde a quick kiss. "See you tomorrow."

"Yeah, yeah, get outta here," Kenny gave him a good-natured shove, and Craig stumbled away and out the door.

Life had definitely changed in the past few weeks. It hadn't been as difficult to juggle a three-person relationship as he had thought, but he had a feeling that that was only because this was still early on. He was sure they would hit a snag at some point, somewhere, but the thought didn't send that crippling fear racing through him anymore. He thought he might be perfectly optimistic about their chances, and that was a little unsettling. He couldn't remember being so optimistic in the past.

Sometimes he missed the periods of distress that had attacked him; he thought that just because he was overreacting in those sorts of situations didn't mean that he wasn't reacting the right way. Now he almost felt as if he was turning just a little apathetic, not reacting to things at all rather than reacting too much, and he wasn't sure that going into the opposite extreme was all that good.

Craig sighed, kicking at a stone in his path. He'd been going into reflections much more often lately, and at all the wrong times. His grades were definitely dropping, and his parents were going to find out at the next progress report. Kyle had tried to help, but his concentration problem was bigger than what they could work around. He'd like to say they weren't working at it as much as they should be, but Kyle was an adamant tutor, so that wasn't an option.

He stopped, looking up at the sky. Pink-tinted clouds were moving slowly over the deepening indigo sky. Something about the way the dying light of the sun was touching them, making them transparent pinkish-orange against deep purple-blue stirred something deep inside him. He stood watching them for a long time, shifting colors as they flowed across the shifting sky behind them, lost in thought.

****

"I can't believe you still have that thing."

A snort accompanied Clyde's voice as Craig pulled himself out of the cave that was his closet. He had had to dig through a few layers of boxes and containers, but he'd found what he'd been looking for finally. A padded black case, just the right size to sling over a shoulder, and a box that was heavier than he'd remembered it being. He carried the two items over to his bed and shoved Clyde aside to make room for them.

"It's not that old…" He answered defensively, although that was exactly what he was thinking. He didn't even know if it would still work or not.

"God, Craig, that thing is like… what, 8 years old? It's ancient!" Clyde laughed, "They probably don't even make tapes for it anymore!"

"Shut up, it's a Hi-8," Craig growled, unzipping the case. "And a Sony. It was top of the line back then."

He pulled out the old camcorder, shooting a glare at the other boy when he caught Clyde rolling his eyes. The camcorder looked good; he eyed it critically, but truth be told, he wasn't sure he knew how the thing worked anymore. Glancing hopefully into the case, he groaned. No instructions either.

"So, what got you thinking of filming stuff again?" Clyde asked, then made a face. "Nothing raunchy, is it?"

"What… what the fuck goes on in your head, Clyde?" Craig looked at him in shock and partial disgust.

"Dude. You know…three guys…" Clyde shrugged, looking slightly uncomfortable. His face brightened suddenly. "Hey, you know, I bet there's some weirdos out there that'll pay good money to see that!"

Craig looked at him for a long, long moment.

"No."

"I wasn't suggesting it, I was just saying," Clyde ended in a grumble, "Don't need to get all scary about it…"

"Come on, let's see if this thing still works," Craig shoved the camcorder back into the case and pulled the strap around his shoulder. Grabbing the box he headed out of his room, hearing the other boy following him out.

"What's it going to be, animals in hats? I don't know if we'll find anyone who wants to dress their pets up around here anymore…" Clyde grinned as Craig flipped him off.

"Shut up." Craig headed down the stairs, leading the way past through the kitchen. "I'll figure it out when I see it."

"Ooo, is that the ar-teest in you talking?" Clyde snickered, but Craig ignored him. Or rather, ignored him on the outer level.

Inside, his mind was firing away. Artist. Was film art? Technically, it was, or it definitely was, depending on how you looked at it. Is it art to capture what's already there, though? Is it art to film something that's just happening? Or is the art in how you capture it, how you make it look when it's replayed?

What is art, anyway? Is sticking rocks in the mud and tossing some glitter on it all art, just because someone says it is? Or is it art only when a majority of people accept it as aesthetically pleasing? Would art still work if it was only viewed as art by one person?

And why did some people think something as stupid and boring as a legal document was art? Did any type of writing that wasn't fiction fit into the category of art? What made writing art, anyways? And why did minimalistic, barely descriptive, meaningless writing make the cut sometimes?

"Hey guys, where are you two headed?" A familiar voice broke through, and Craig snapped out of his thoughts as Clyde responded.

"Somewhere where apparently there will be something to record." Clyde grinned, "Mr. Arteest here will know when we get there."

"Shut up," Craig flipped Clyde off with his free hand, then grinned over at the redhead standing off to the side. "Wanna join us?"

"Sure," Kyle shrugged, and fell into step as they headed on. Clyde started whistling, a little too innocently, and Craig shoved him in the side. Hard.

"Fuck, Craig, I didn't even say anything," The boy complained, rubbing his side and giving Craig a scathing look.

"Just telling your brain to shut up," Craig said, ignoring the look and fixing his hold on the box. Kyle raised his eyebrows at the exchange, grinning slightly.

"Right. So really, do you have any ideas about what you want to do?" He asked, and Craig looked up into the sky for a moment.

"Do you think film is art?" He asked, then frowned and looked at the red head. "No, not film. Filming. Is the actual capturing of moving image art? Or does the art not happen until someone starts editing and putting the pieces together?"

Kyle gave him a blank look at first, glanced over at Clyde for help. The other boy shrugged, just as blank, and Craig could see them both trying to think of an answer.

"Well… you know, if you capture something a certain way, and it's artistic… then, you know, it's the act of capturing it that's art. I guess…" Kyle said haltingly, "It's like, if it looks good and is, well, pleasing to the eye, I guess, then it's art."

"But what if what's pleasing to the eye isn't the way it's captured, but the actual thing that's being captured?" Craig pushed the question further.

"Well, it's like all those videos of parrots and stuff, like, in the Amazon… or something…" Clyde trailed off when Craig turned to look at him, and gave a shrug.

"Yeah, that's a good example," Kyle said, picking up the idea. "You know, like macaws, they're really beautiful birds, right? But if you have a really crappy film maker recording them, you get really crappy movies about them. It doesn't help that they're really nice to look at, you have to have a good eye for catching them right, otherwise it just comes out looking really, really bad."

Craig nodded; it made sense. Or at least he thought it did.

"Right, let's go to Shaky's." He said; he had an idea.

"Awesome! Let's get a-"

"Not for the pizza," He cut Clyde off, and gave him a stern look when the boy began to protest. It didn't faze the other boy, but Craig ignored his grumbling and led the way towards the center of town. Main Street wasn't far away, but considering it cut through the whole town towards the east and west, that wasn't saying much. Still, it didn't take long before they were walking past the convenience store and hardware shop, and reaching the corner where Shaky's Pizza stood.

"So, what, we're going to go look at pizza's sizzling away in the oven or something, right?" Clyde asked, almost hopefully. Craig shook his head, leading past the front doors and towards the back alley.

"…you're not…" Kyle started, then groaned. "Craig…"

"Wait, what?" Clyde looked over at Kyle, then towards Craig. The blue haired boy stayed silent, stopping at the front of the alley to pull the camcorder out of the case.

"He's going to record the… the…" Kyle nodded his head towards the alley, a slight look of disgust on his face.

Craig set the box down on an old milk crate and opened it up to reveal rows of Hi-8 cassettes. He picked out a blank one and popped it into the camcorder.

"The what?" Clyde frowned, looking into the alley. "The garbage?"

"No, dammit," Kyle sighed, "The rats! He's going to record the rats!"

There was a moment of silence.

"No. Fucking. Way. We are not recording rats, Craig." Clyde walked up to him, grabbing him by the shoulder. "They're dirty, Craig! And… and all diseased and stuff. And huge! Shaky's rats are giant! They'll be all over us if we go back there."

"They will not be all over us…" Craig answered back calmly, turning on the camcorder and checking to see how much juice the battery had. Dammit; just fifteen minutes. Of course, batteries lose charge over time, even if they're not being used. "We won't be here long."

"I don't want to be here at all, Token says this guy Jason who works here says they have a special bat they take out with them when they're throwing the trash away. He says Jason says he had to use it a few times too!" Clyde looked down into the alley fearfully.

"I don't know Craig, I mean… even if they're not giants, they can still have some weird diseases and stuff. What if one of them bites you?" Kyle frowned, "All it takes is one rabies-infested rat bite, and you have to go to the hospital and get shots. Damn, all it takes is a scratch, and you can be infected."

"Everything. Is. Going. To. Be. Fine." Craig sighed loudly, and without waiting for any more arguments, he headed down into the alley.

"C…Craig, dude, don't!" Clyde called after him, taking a few steps into the alley. Something moved in the bags by the garbage bins behind the pizza place, and he jumped back. Craig rolled his eyes, looked over at Kyle to see the redhead looking around uneasily.

"You guys are total pansies, you know that?" He shook his head and went on. A scuffling noise rose up from behind the bin, and a few squeaks sounded before the noise faded away. Camera held at ready, he crouched down just a few feet shy of the dumpster. The plastic of one of the bags moved slightly, and he aimed towards it. Eye to the viewfinder, he zoomed in until he could see nothing but the moving plastic. He waited, holding his arm as steady as he could as the plastic danced. A hole appeared suddenly, and poking out of it came a tiny black nose.

Showtime.

****

"I don't understand how… that… could be so… mesmerizing…" Kyle said, shifting slightly at Craig's side. He leaned into the other boy's shoulder, eyes on the television screen before them. Kenny grunted from the other side of Craig, speaking around a spoon of ice cream.

"Not cool." The blonde licked the spoon clean, looked at the blue haired boy. "You're not supposed to be making me like them."

Craig grinned down at the blonde, who was, well, laying upside down on the couch. His head and shoulders were on the ground, but somehow he was still managing to look at the TV with little problem.

"Not trying to make you like them… just trying to make them look different… or something," Craig shrugged, winding one arm around Kyle, and patting Kenny's knee with his free hand.

On the TV a rat was picking its way along the edge of a dumpster, taking each step slowly and steadily. It almost seemed comical as it took a few steps forward, then a step back, then forward again. Another rat climbed onto the edge behind it, following along in the same rhythm, then another. It was a rat dance troupe, they could've been starting a little conga line on that dumpster. Kenny groaned from the floor. Kyle snickered at him, and the blond grumbled something beneath his breath.

Craig sighed softly, slouching down in the couch a little. He didn't know how it had happened, but everyone in Kenny's house had decided to go somewhere at the same time, and they'd managed to snag some time to themselves. All three of them. It was still a little strange to him, as he sat there watching rats curling up underneath a soggy cardboard, to think that all three of them were somehow managing to get along, together. Strange, but good. Wonderful, actually. Pretty fucking awesome.

"I'm gonna get a guinea pig," Craig said suddenly, quietly. He felt Kyle move beside him, saw Kenny glance up at him. "Probably sometime this week."

"That's cool," Kenny commented, taking another spoonful of ice cream and managing to get it into his mouth without dropping it on himself. Talent, for sure.

"You know where you'll be getting it from?" Kyle asked, and Craig nodded.

"There's a breeder in Denver that I heard about from this one message board. He's a good guy, and he's got a lot of good reviews," He shrugged, then grinned. "I… I can't wait, you know?"

"I bet," Kyle laughed softly, "Think of any names yet?"

"Yeah, but you never know until you get them," Craig answered, thinking names over again. It didn't matter; he'd probably end up naming it something totally different than what he was thinking anyways.

"What's it like?" Kenny asked suddenly. Craig paused his thoughts, looked down to find the blonde giving him a curious look.

"What's what like?" He asked, puzzled.

"Having a pet, you know," Kenny shifted on the ground slightly, shifting his focus to his nearly empty bowl of ice cream.

"It's… you know, it's pretty cool…" Craig found himself stumped; was it even possible to explain? "It's work, you have to take care of it… and stuff… but it's cool…"

He looked at Kyle, but the redhead seemed just as puzzled as he was.

"Do they know? You know, that they're pets? Or something…" Kenny's voice kept getting quieter, and he was mixing the melting remains of his ice cream intently.

"Well… I mean, they know who feeds them and plays with them and stuff…" Craig said haltingly. "They know who cares for them…"

Kenny stayed silent, staring into the tilted bowl and looking deeply thoughtful. Craig felt a nudge in his side, turned to find Kyle giving him a meaningful look. He thought he knew what the redhead meant, and he turned to look back at Kenny, grinned.

"You know, you can come help me pick it out, if you want," Craig nudged the blonde in the side with the toe of his shoe. Blue eyes locked on him, glittering.

"Really?" Kenny asked, excited, nearly dropping the bowl on himself. He caught it and straightened it in time, cleared his throat. "I mean, it's totally up to you, like, if you want me to, that's cool."

Kyle leaned his face against Craig's arm, muffling his laughter, and Craig grinned.

"Sure, I'll let you know when we'll be heading out, okay?"

"Yeah, dude," Kenny slid the rest of the way off of the couch and stood up. "I'll go get more ice cream, we better eat this or it'll just get wasted on Kevin…"

"I think you just made his week," Kyle said softly as soon as the blonde was out of hearing range. Craig smiled at him, shrugged.

"Yeah, well, thanks for the hint," He said, and Kyle smiled back. "You wanna come too?"

"No, you two have fun," Kyle sighed, "Besides, I have math sessions for most of this week…"

"Fun," Craig grimaced, was about to continue when his pocket started buzzing. "God dammit, what the hell…"

He pulled his phone out, flipped it open just as Kenny came back with three bowls of towering ice cream. Kyle's eyes widened, but Kenny just smirked and sat down next to Craig.

"Hello?" Craig tried to take his ice cream from the blonde, but he shook his head and held it away from him. "Mom?"

"Craig, honey? Are you busy?" His mother's voice sounded through the speaker.

"Uh, I mean, not that much…" He tried to hide the disappointment, but grimaced all the same. Dammit. Both Kenny and Kyle were giving him questioning looks.

"Craig, could you come home? Your… your father and I would like to talk to you…" There was something in her voice that sent a tiny tendril of ice down his spine. He stood up abruptly, turning to look at Kyle and Kenny.

"Uh…y-yeah, sure mom…" He stuttered a little, "I'll be right back…"

He closed the phone, staring at it warily, as if it might jump out and bite him at any moment. The TV behind him was playing static, it was grating on his nerves; he felt frayed, detached. Something was wrong.

"Craig, what's wrong?" Kyle asked softly, and he looked back at them, saw the concern in both pairs of eyes.

"I… I have to go home," He managed; his voice sounded hollow, his throat felt choked.

"What's wrong?" Kenny asked, still holding a bowl of ice cream in each hand.

Craig swallowed thickly, his throat feeling constricted. Tight.

"Nothing, nothing…" He tucked the phone back into his jeans, "I'll call you guys later. Don't worry…"

He turned before they could say anything more, heading out a little too quickly for everything to be okay. It had to be okay. Everything was fine. Everything was dandy.

Except, it wasn't, was it?

He shuddered, huddled against an imaginary wind, and jogged home.


	8. Bubble

Disclaimer: South Park and all characters in it are copyright Matt Stone and Trey Parker, not me.

A/N:

Just so you know, I had better things to do.

Instead, I'm giving you this.

Writing Craig is getting harder, in a good way. Writing a three way relationship is getting even harder than it was, because now it's getting to be a three way relationship. With three people. In one relationship. Cue ripping hair out now.

But it's working, somehow. Things still might seem… strange. It's a working thing,

Oh, and remember that one chapter, where Craig and Clyde were talking on the ridge? MMmmyep… I like going back to touch on little specifics.

**THANKS TO:**  
Lar-Lar

Lilzenium

Des Beasty

I LOVE YOU WITH THE POWER OF A THOUSAND SUNS or something. You understand, right?

**PIMPAGE:** Sam-Sam-Samedi. Just pick something and read it. AMAZING. Writing like that gives me hope, for something. Much hope.

**SELF PIMPAGE:** Hey, you? Got time after you finish reading this? Go read PINK, yes, that's the title, Pink. Go read it. It's by me. And it's Stan-centric, and full of, um, thought-and-analysis provoking stuff. Please. And review. Please. I'm not too proud to beg, really.

* * *

Title: A Neapolitan Love Story

Author: Zoshi the Confused  
Rating: Ranging, mostly PG-PG13

Category: South Park

Genre: General

May contain: Shounen-Ai/Boy Love, Violence, Adult Situations, Swearing

* * *

The door to the porch opened, and footsteps headed across the wooden decks to where Craig sat hunched on the first step. He shuddered slightly, pulling in on himself as the person sat down next to him. A hand touched his hair softly, stroking gently, but he couldn't get himself to relax to that caring touch.

"I-It's my f-f-fault, isn't i-it?" He shook again, knowing well enough that it wasn't from the cold. A soft sigh came from the person next to him, and the hand dropped to his shoulder and pulled him close.

"Craig, Honey, this is not your fault," His mother said softly, gently stroking his face with her other hand. "This isn't anyone's fault."

"It is," Craig said, voice wavering. "It's my fault."

"Craig, no," His mother's voice shook slightly, and she pulled him closer, hand rubbing his shoulder. "No."

"I-if I wasn't so… so…" He shook; if he wasn't so what? If he wasn't so everything, he thought. If he just wasn't, at all. Maybe then things would be different.

"This happens sometimes, Craig, and you can't blame yourself for it." His mother kissed his cheek softly, "Sometimes things happen, and you just can't find a reason for it."

"What… what's going to happen to… us?" Craig turned to her, voice desperate.

"We'll see, honey," She smiled at him softly, "We'll see."

"He doesn't want me…" Craig said, voice just barely above a whisper. His mother's smile faltered, but she didn't say a word, and he leaned against her shoulder, shuddering again. Of course, who would want him anyways? He wasn't all that great a person, no, he wasn't great at all. He wasn't even a good person.

His mother wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly. He felt warmed, finally, by her presence. Felt cared for. He didn't feel anyone should be caring about him, it seemed like such a waste, but he wasn't so apathetic that he'd reject it when it was offered. He felt so cold, and it seemed that only his mother's touch was keeping him from freezing completely. They sat there in silence for a long moment before another fear bubbled up within him. He trembled, unconsciously pushing closer to his mother, wanting to feel that comfort just a bit longer, just in case. Just in case.

"M…Mom?" He asked tentatively, staring at some spot on the ground before them, unwilling to look at her. "I… I have to tell you something…"

"Hm? What is it honey?" His mother asked softly. He started to speak, stopped, cut himself off with a low whimper. She recognized his hesitation, rubbed his back gently and waited patiently.

"Mom… I…" He stopped again, licking his suddenly dry lips. His fingers clenched in the fabric of his shirt where he'd wrapped his arms around himself. He shuddered again, uncertain, before finally breathing out, "I'm gay."

A black hole opened somewhere in his stomach; he wasn't sure where he was looking anymore, or what at. He was detached, far away, gaining speed in some sort of zero-gravity fall, which didn't make sense, but his head told him one thing and his insides told him something else, and he wasn't sure if anything made sense anymore. Light was supposed to be bright, but instead it was dark, and he was either falling into it or out of it, or maybe somehow around it, but it didn't matter, because he had to come back down – or up – or in or out – because he needed to hear her response, he needed the look on her face, he needed that last blow that would tell him that he was indeed lost and gone.

"Craig," She touched his face, but he didn't want to move at her touch, didn't want to look although he desperately needed to. "Craig, look at me."  
She placed both hands on either side of his face, forced him to raise his head, look her in the eyes. He was looking everywhere, everywhere but at her, but her gaze was too strong, and he found himself looking his mother in the eyes finally. They shone in the darkness, and she smiled softly, and suddenly she didn't look so worn, so weary.

"Craig, honey… I love you," She stroked his face gently, "I love you, and I will never, ever, tell you to be anything than who you are. There is absolutely nothing wrong with being true to yourself. Do you understand?"

Craig whimpered softly; he wasn't sure he did. He wasn't sure it was making sense, but he thought it would make sense in time. It was stupid, he knew. It was the simplest thing in the world, her words, her meaning, but the dark thing gnawing at him wasn't letting it get through to him.

"Honey, you have to be yourself," His mother pulled him close again, kissing his forehead. "You have to be yourself, and never let anyone tell you otherwise. You can fool others, Craig. You can lie to them. But don't ever, ever, try to fool yourself."

Craig nodded jerkily, wrapped his arms around his mother and pulled close, drinking in the warmth of motherly love that seemed to so effortlessly chase away the darkness.

"I'm sorry I had to pull you away from your friends, honey," She said with a sigh, stroking his hair. He closed his eyes, shuddering softly. Oh God. Kyle and Kenny. What if everything went to hell? What if there was moving involved? What would he do? What would they do?

"M-om," He started, voice breaking. He stopped; he couldn't. That was selfish, wasn't it? That was wrong.

"Craig, honey?" She asked gently, patting his back. "Would you want to go back? Spend the night, maybe?"

He pulled away slightly, looked at her in shock. She smiled at him, and there was something, something in her eyes. He wondered if she knew, now; if maybe she was figuring things out. He was happy she didn't say anything. He hoped she wouldn't.

"Maybe you can de-stress, hm? Play some games or go get in trouble somewhere…" She chuckled softly, touching his face gently, then patted his cheek. "Go ahead, honey. And try not to worry about anything, okay?"

"O-okay," He stood up shakily, stared down at her for a moment. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure!" She laughed slightly, clapping him on the leg. "Now go, have fun."

"All right… Night, mom," He tried to grin, but it felt strained. She smiled softly, a bit sadly.

"Good Night, Craig," She got up herself, give him a kiss on the cheek. She smiled then, almost normally, and raised an eyebrow. "And when are you finally going to bring these friends over so I can meet them properly?"

"Someday," He answered, clearing his throat slightly, and trying not to look guilty. His mother smiled, patted his shoulder, and he started off, turning only at the gate to wave at her. She waved back, and he headed out into the streets.

Motherly love was like a bubble, while it lasted. Nothing got through it, nothing could get to him, but just like a bubble that slowly lost its air, this bubble lost its influence the farther from home he got. By the time he'd reached the train tracks, he was shaking again, arms twitching as he wrapped them around his midsection. He didn't know how time had passed since he'd left; he didn't know what time it was at all. He wasn't sure if either one of them was going to be there, since Kenny only spent as much time as he needed to at his house, preferring either his friends houses or wandering around half the night on the empty streets. Craig climbed the front steps shakily, stopping at the front door. The TV was blasting loud, so he was pretty sure the guys weren't in the living room anymore, but he had no idea if they were anywhere in the house at all. He decided to risk it and pushed the wooden door open.

Walking in as carefully as he could, he pushed the door closed slowly, wincing as the hinges squeaked. He looked into the living room to see Stuart snoring away on the couch, feet propped up on the cinderblock and plywood construction that passed as a coffee table, a beer bottle dangling precariously in his limp fingers. Crossing the room as quietly as he could, and nearly jumping out of his skin when the bottle dropped onto the floor with a loud thump, Craig finally managed to reach the hallway that led to the bedrooms. Heading down the corridor, he reached Kenny's door. Looking around warily, he pushed on the door. Opening it slightly, he slipped inside and leaned back against it to close it.

"Craig?"

Kyle's voice surprised him, and he looked up to see both the red head and blonde sitting on the mattress that constituted the blonde's bed, cards in hands and tossed around on the bed sheets between them. They were both giving him questioning looks, and his throat caught at the concern he saw in their eyes. Without a word in response he shuffled over to the mattress, dropping onto the head of it behind where Kenny was sitting, and curling up to bury his face in his arms. He felt the mattress shift, and someone touched his head gently.

"Hey, Craig, dude, what's wrong?" Kenny asked, and Craig knew it was his hand on his head. He uncovered his face just enough to look up at the blonde. Kyle was next to him, and they were both looking at him with worried expressions.

"Can I stay the night?" Craig asked softly, worried his voice might break if he tried to speak any louder. Kenny looked surprised, but nodded quickly.

"Sure," The blonde ruffled his hair slightly, biting his lip, and glanced sideways at Kyle.

"Do you want to talk?" Kyle asked gently, laying a hand on Craig's side.

He shuddered softly, but not from fear. He was starting to feel warm again, their touches were soothing, calming. He looked away from them, down at the threadbare fabric of Kenny's sheets, swallowed thickly, and hoped to high heaven his voice would stay steady.

"My p-parents," Craig grimaced at the stutter, fingers clenching in the sheets, "They're… getting a divorce."

"Shit…" Kenny's voice was barely a whisper, barely a breath. Craig could feel Kyle's hand clench spasmodically against his side.

"God, Craig… I'm sorry…" Kyle whispered, gently rubbing his side, and he shuddered, closing his eyes. He pressed his face into his arms; he didn't want to see anything. There was shifting on the bed, he could feel them moving, and then Kenny was laying on the mattress, perpendicular to him. The blonde stroked his hair gently, every now and then pressing a soft kiss to his head between whispered words of comfort. Craig couldn't feel Kyle's presence, at least not anywhere close, but then the red head started speaking form the other end of the bed.

"Mom? It's going good, Mom. Yeah… I just wanted to ask, this project we're doing? Well, it's going really well and… yeah… well, I thought we could just finish it tonight… yeah, tomorrow's Saturday so… Yes. Yes, I ate dinner. No. It wasn't McDonalds. MOM… Yes? All right… Yeah, good night."

The mattress shifted again, and Craig could feel Kyle shift close to him, his hand touching against his side again. He buried his face deeper, shifting so he could press it against the sheets. The stale scent of cigarettes and dollar store detergent was comforting. He thought he could relax, because Kenny had rested his head against his, his arm laying across Craig's neck, and Kyle had curled up as close to Craig as he could get, almost laying on him, and wrapped his arms around his body.

Craig wanted to relax. He wanted to let go. A twinge was starting at the back of his neck; he could feel himself twitching slightly no matter how hard he was trying to control it. His face was wet; tears were running down it unbidden, and he knew was starting to sob. He knew why this was happening, he should have been expecting it. He should have known. It was his fault, after all, and his mom and sister just happened to be innocent bystanders. He should have known.

He pushed up from the bed, twisting around. Kenny stared up at Craig, puzzled, and Kyle had ended up falling over onto his legs. He wiped his face and nose with his sleeve, trying not to sniffle.

"I mean, I know I'm off. I know I have p-problems…" Craig moved his hand into his hair, gripping it tightly, painfully, trying to keep from crying. Kyle sat up, reached over to gently untangle his fingers from his hair.

"Craig, everyone has problems," The redhead said, lowering Craig's hand away from his face.

"But I have real problems," Craig brought his knees up to his chest, and he tried to bring his arms in closer but Kyle wouldn't let go of his hand. He could feel Kenny sitting up behind him.

"And you think you're the reasons your parents are breaking up?" Kenny asked, moving around to look at Craig head-on. He looked at him for a long moment before reaching out to brush a tear off of his cheek. "You're not the reason they're breaking up, Craig."

"How the fuck do you know?" Craig snapped, tearing his hand out of Kyle's grip and wrapping his arms around his knees. He looked away from both of them, staring at the wall across from him.

"Maybe you have problems, Craig, because they had problems first? Did you ever think of that?" Kenny asked, maybe a bit more harshly then he should have. Craig shuddered slightly, pressing his mouth against his knees. Kyle sighed softly, rubbing Craig's arm gently.

"You can't put the blame on yourself, Craig," The redhead said, voice soothing. "You can't blame yourself for something you had no control over."

Craig shook his head, running his fingers through his hair. He wasn't sure he could do that. He wasn't sure they were right.

He was suddenly jerked, and looked up to see Kenny pulling at the covers they were all sitting on.

"Kenny, what are you doing?" Kyle asked, nearly falling over as Kenny pulled on the covers again.

"All right, shoes off," Kenny said, finally having gotten the covers off of them. He was met with two puzzled glances, and no movement. "Come on, as sad is it sounds, we're not gonna get anywhere talking."

"So…" Kyle started, looking at the bed curiously. Craig looked at Kenny as the blonde crossed the room to hit the light switch. They were swamped in darkness suddenly, but after a moment his eyes had adjusted to the dim light that reached the room from the streetlamp outside. Kenny was heading back towards the mattress, trying not to stumble over the different things he'd left tossed around his room.

"So, we're going to get to bed, go to sleep, and hope that tomorrow we'll wake up thinking clearer," The blonde said, falling onto the mattress next to Craig and kicking off his shoes. Craig looked at him for a moment, then turned to Kyle. The redhead had a slightly bemused expression on his face, but he turned to Craig and grinned softly.

"He's got a good idea…" Kyle said, shrugging, and started untying his own shoes.

Craig looked down at his own shoes, not uncertain, just not wanting to move. He reached out and tugged at a shoe string half-heartedly. He was tired, he realized, but he didn't think he'd be able to sleep. He wasn't sure he wanted to sleep, but he wasn't sure what he wanted, at all. He didn't know what he was doing there, anyways. Why he was burdening them as well.

His fingers were brushed away suddenly, and Kenny untied his shoes.

"There, better?" The blonde asked, grinning up at him. Craig didn't reply, but pulled his shoes off and tossed them aside. He slid his legs under the covers, laying down as well he could without taking up too much of the mattress. It was a squeeze with three teenage boys on it, but they seemed to be managing well. At least, Craig hoped they were managing well; he was in the middle after all, and for all he knew either Kenny or Kyle was hanging half-way off the mattress. It was a little awkward; somehow even on that narrow mattress they were finding ways not to touch each other more than they had to. Craig wasn't sure just how much he should move so he wouldn't make one of the others uncomfortable. He wasn't sure just how the hell they were going to get to sleep like that, too.

"You know, it looks wider when it's empty," Kyle spoke up from Craig's left. Craig turned to see the redhead looking up at the ceiling with a slightly thoughtful expression.

"Well, sorry, I'll fix that once the dump gets a new shipment," Kenny replied, shifting onto his side.

"You did not get your mattress from the dump," Kyle sighed, but there was a slight look of distaste on his face.

"Amazing what a good airing out can do, huh?" Kenny replied nonchalantly, and Kyle sat up suddenly.

"Shut up." The redhead looked uneasily at the blonde.

"God, I'm joking," Kenny sighed loudly, but looked like he was holding back a laugh.

Craig found himself grinning despite himself, and raised an arm to wipe off his face again. Remembering the look on Kyle's face, he found himself chuckling as well, and tried to muffle it with his sleeve. The redhead shot him an annoyed glance, looking slightly embarrassed, and dropped with a huff back onto the mattress. Kenny really started laughing then, a quiet laughter first that grew once Craig found he couldn't hold back either.

"Shut up," Kyle snapped, but he didn't sound convincing, and when he spoke again it was bubbling with laughter. "You guys are such fucking asses…"

Then he broke into laughter as well, and for a long moment Craig couldn't catch his breath. Something was breaking away; it was like nothing mattered anymore, and not in that bleak sense this time. Laughter faded into chuckles, and chuckles faded into a comfortable silence. Craig found himself grinning softly into the darkness, wondering just how damn lucky he had to be to be there at that moment. He'd never thought they'd get anywhere close to where they were now, and where they were wasn't very far at all. With a soft sigh he reached out, wrapping an arm around each one of them and pulling them closer. Kenny didn't wait long before wrapping his own arms around him, head resting on his shoulder. On his other side Kyle shifted slightly, Craig could feel him press a soft kiss against his cheek, snaking an arm behind his neck to get comfortable before finally resting his head on the pillow next to Craig's.

There was so much he wanted to tell them, so much he wanted to say, but not tonight. He wasn't sure he could put it into words tonight, he wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to, but he knew he'd try. He'd find the moment, but for now, just being there with them was enough.

****

"I just, you know… I feel like an ass…" Clyde sighed, tossing a rock out off of the ridge they were sitting on. Craig looked over at him from his seat by the small tree.

"Why?" He asked, pausing with his hands half-full of soil. The brown haired boy turned to look at him, grinning uneasily.

"I just… kept saying it was gonna be all right… and stuff…" Clyde shrugged, bouncing another rock in his palm.

"Everyone did," Craig said, patting the soil into place around the base of the tree. "You were actually doing it to try and make me feel better, and not just trying to avoid talking about it."

He took another handful of soil out of the small bag next to him and patted it down around the base of the tree. It was mixed with fertilizer and peat moss and guinea pig food.

"You okay, dude?" Clyde asked after a moment, and Craig shrugged.

"I dunno…" He wiped his forehead with his arm, and looked over his work. Seemed good, he thought, but frowned when he looked at little metal plaque nailed to the tree. The tree had grown too close to it, again. He reached out and rubbed it with the back of his hand to clean it but only ended up getting it dirtier. He grimaced, and sighed. "You know, it hit me. It just didn't, hit me. I don't think it'll make sense, like, for a few years. Or something."

Clyde nodded; he didn't understand, but Craig appreciated the effort. Funny, he didn't remember appreciating that effort before. He looked over at the brunette, biting his lip thoughtfully.

"Clyde?" He asked, looking down at the bag of soil and the little garden spade on the ground next to him.

"Yeah?" Clyde asked, his voice just slightly distant. Craig knew the divorce was bothering the brown haired boy almost as much as it bothered him, if in a different way. Hell, they'd grown up together, and if they didn't exactly act close-as-brothers, that didn't meant they didn't react when something happened to one of them.

"You think… I can stay at your house, sometimes? I mean, just for a bit, or something…" Craig looked at him, "I mean… fuck, if it's all right, right?"  
"Craig." Clyde almost looked confused. "Why are you even asking?"

"Because…" Craig paused, realizing he didn't have an answer. He frowned, and tossed the spade in Clyde's direction. "Because that's what normal people do, stupid."

"Oh, we're normal now, are we?" Clyde laughed, leaning away from the spade's path. Craig flipped him off, and the other boy laughed harder, falling over onto his back.

"Shut up Clyde," Craig huffed, wrapping up the bag of soil, but he was grinning. He looked at the plaque on the tree again. "Dammit, I need to loosen this again."

"Do it tomorrow," Clyde said, walking over with the spade. "We'll make it a… a thing. Bring the guys up, get some pizza or something. Share fond memories."

Craig looked up at him, cocking an eyebrow.

"Share fond memories?" He asked, and Clyde shrugged, grinning. "You're such a fag."

"You're one to talk," Clyde answered back, giving him a shove. Craig shoved him back just as well, laughing as he nearly fell backward. Standing up, he took the spade from the brown haired boy and started down the trail that led off the ridge.

"C'mon Clyde, I don't wanna be late for dinner," He called back, and heard Clyde hurrying after him.

"Dinner?" The brunette asked, and Craig rolled his eyes.

"Yes, dinner. Your mom said she was making lasagna, and I am not going to miss out on lasagna."

"Pfft, of course."


End file.
